As yor my main pericardial rub,
I don’t listen to my own deep peril.
In taming me, by fashion of a hub,
There’s nothing left in life that’s safely feral.
Potential space can only be a cave
when queen is one in gawd with courtly knave;
You trace a paradox of my body
and bring the sounds that situate me, oddly.
Wayne
"For you, Jan"
Galerie Dennis Cooper presents … Aldo Tambellini
6 hours ago
uhmm, i also received this "lov epoem" from you, W. Care to explain? Are you pushing me away?
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