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Post by Don Schaeffer on Jul 6, 2007 0:41:40 GMT -5
At the end of the undistinguished doo-wop song, they introduced a choir which sang high,
a chorus of dreams, aimed voices right into the buzzer of my brain, the trigger of charms.
I heard my way back into my history of hope, into the summer scenes.
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Post by Dunstan Attard on Sept 1, 2007 1:34:22 GMT -5
how well does this poem evoke to me that sudden experience that comes when least expected, like walking into st paul's and stumble on mattins, experience that takes away the floor from beneath my feet and let me fall into the graceful lush of fragrance of yellow petals bestowing light into the pleasure paths of mind...
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Post by Don Schaeffer on Jan 5, 2009 10:44:09 GMT -5
Thanks--thats it
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