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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-06-28 | | Submited by corina dragomir
a clown's smirk in the skull of a baboon
(where once good lips stalked or eyes firmly stirred) my mirror gives me,on this afternoon; i am a shape that can but eat and turd ere with the dirt death shall him vastly gird, a coward waiting clumsily to cease whom every perfect thing meanwhile doth miss; a hand's impression in an empty glove, a soon forgotten tune,a house for lease. I have never loved you dear as now i love
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