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Posted by on May 24, 2017 in Poetry | 0 comments

Writing Novels

It’s my turn to spin,
My turn to begin.
Sometimes it’s the end
Then I bend and bend,
The guts and the brain,
To wind and wind again.
But it won’t still the drum
The ending will come
To the author within.
Upended and penned
It circles the drain
With the bubble gum
The ho hum and the rain.

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