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Marie-Caroline Moir
908 Readings | 0 Ratings
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Agent 27
He cometh beruffled ungliding
with swerve mathmythic eyes.
As oily as a hyphen
and soft-shod as a spy.
But sudden with a powder flash
and double lapis spark,
I blinkle then volupture him,
that hoary-hearted mark.
I’ll foxtress out his diffidence
o’er several whiskeys neat;
he’ll catalogue this happenstance
and pray my curves repeat.
Posted 08/27/09
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I've always loved your meter and your syllabic undulations.
Douglas Cole
02/22/11 12:14pm