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UPON THE GOOS'ED FLESH
Folder:
JOURNAL#31 rippling chills
a sonnet
of cold wisdom
upon
the goos'ed flesh
rapture
waves
her
tool of
torture
the eyes can
not hold closed
their elevator's doors
to further hide
such deep wants
so far gone
unexpressed..............
( written July 2, 2006 645pm)
