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Post by Ivan Carswell on Feb 12, 2008 16:18:49 GMT -5
Strange images, not threatening – though vague tension tinged margins where colours merged. Faces blurred, names changed yet greetings seemed genuine. They were friends – talking hieroglyphs I did not understand; I read their roly-poly body language instead. Easily. What am I doing here? They moved away, leaving me outside, but there was nothing there. Intrigued, I lay down, returned to sleep. © 5 January 2008, I. D. Carswell
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Post by Don Schaeffer on Feb 13, 2008 11:56:54 GMT -5
I love this whole concept. The poem and the title are a unit.
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