poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

It's all in
the sound. A song.
Seldom a song. It should

be a song—made of
particulars, wasps,
a gentian—something
immediate, open

scissors, a lady's
eyes—waking
centrifugal, centripetal.


Submitted by Bob

Added: 5 May 2003 | Last Read: 2 Oct 2026 10:11 PM | Viewed: 7991 times

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