remmers
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The O'er-Arching Echoes of Our Days
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Nov 12 21:19 UTC 1996 |
The o'er-arching echoes of our days
Curl and sizzle on the grill of life,
Fate reminds us in peculiar ways
Of never-ending pestilence and strife.
The donkey brays at gnats he cannot see,
The man makes noisome protest, all for naught,
The shadowed portent which we must needs flee
Stamps its hoof in hopes that we'll be caught.
The pen has moved onto a stranger page
Than heretofore was blessed with mortal ink,
We wander e'er in hopes that we'll assuage
The spectre at whose threat we must not wink.
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nsiddall
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response 1 of 1:
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Nov 14 19:03 UTC 1996 |
When science is in the country a cow meows and the moon jumps from
limb to limb through the trees like a silver ape.
The cow bow-wows to heal all voice of itself. The grass sinks back
into the earth looking for its mother.
A farmer dreamed he harvested the universe, and had a barn full of
stars, and a herd of clouds fenced in the pasture.
The farmer awoke to something screaming in the kitchen, which he
identified as the farmerette.
(Russell Edson)
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