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Posted by on Sep 29, 2016 in Poetry | 1 comment

TURNING

TURNING

TURNING
This way and that
Hypothalamus in a hat
In a vase on a shelf
The rose of the self
Hitler and Hamlet
Not the same gambit
Now this way has turned
Into that of the urn
And it’s my turn to chill
To think or to kill

 

 

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