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A DEARTH OF PROSE

from A Dearth of Prose


pray, are the roads all broken
by the gods irate
that one may not go rhyming
and chance upon its mate?

a dearth of prose if splendid
unbridled by the law
of the righteous comma,,,,
or (remarks).

,,,,.,,,,... !

the toddlers are all rhyming
at school on yellow knees
vicarious for Oxford
phantoms in their studies.

the roads are gleaming silver;
the clouds are gleaming hair;
the cherubs are all happy
because we are not there.






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