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Saturday, 24 April 2010

This little life



'The daily round, the common task',

alas, don't 'furnish all I ask'.
I cannot sleep, I overeat:
this little life's relentless beat.
(perhaps that last word should be bleat)

2 comments:

  1. Great image -- the folded arms, the lack of eyes and mouth, all of it petrified -- for this poem,

    (o)

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  2. Yes, as alembic said... and 'bleat' says it better.

    ReplyDelete