"137 from 113 = -Y"
Today is day one-three seven,
yes, and I am on
one-thirteen poems.
What could I do to catch
up, next? I should just run,
outside
on roam
and spot
what sticks cut fine,
spike deep between two
eyes, enough to weep. Then
I'd be all caught up tout suite!
A sweet deal,
that, for all toujours.
I'll go get wet! And
write
downpours.
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