Challenge Quietly

November 16, 2009

I haven’t worn a leash
And I haven’t learned the steps
Your temper is to beseech
And my temper is to be kept

You’re hair so very long
In this short one act play
I tried to make the stitches unfurl
With my half-baked hearsay

Water down the drain
Windows down the shore
I keep asking if it’s about the film
Or simply just the score

You weren’t born to teach
And I was, so keep what you kept
I have everything to sweep
But even I need to be swept

Language is a fuse
There is this
red spiral notebook in the library
right by Borges
Care to play into a ruse?


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