she told him more than once
she told him more than once
she told him
more than once
that all of her love affairs
ended with a broken heart
he thought
she meant hers
~ welker ~
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she wrote poetry like jazz
brautigan's riddle
christine's lament
good friday
when the night comes down
my childhood moved so slow and beautiful
antique
did you see the poets all dressed in black
life is like a crossword puzzle
waiting
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