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platte bum blues.

and eternity have all summed up
to screwball hair
    and deadpan posture, tend'rest of
    touch as supple
    and seamless as
flower bundles.
-and even yet:
o hopelessness! elastic ennui that sticks
and shifts– but for those
                 platte river bums
                 posted about the trail of
      sewer filth
and plastic disparagements,
they do not experience a lethargic spike– no,
only instinct slews them
over time as they wear
their shredded jackets
tennis shoes
and ragged backpacks.
the wind ungulates my flabby limbs,
      my flaccid youth,
      all too young to decline or wilt
      or grow cobwebs
      in my armpits.
-but for all those bearded men,
        trading goods
        and losing spirit:
coincidentally roaming
the nether trail past the
                they've lost their
                vigor (if they've had any)
                unlike i–
only riding to and fro,
gazing at them
as they gazed back.

8 Jun 08

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Nice poem. Check out mine called A message to americans
 — MattPat

Try keeping your back straight.
 — Cerulise

Just read it. It's one of the best poems I've ever read. Seriously, you're amazing.
 — OKcomputer