The Ladder
This is a dynamic ranking ladder of my poems that changes in real time as |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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#991 | And traffic, such a tiny chore. That Lilacs on the way. Standing up, un-danceing more. To lend you less a day. _ |
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#992 | I don't know why I fell on a spider. Upon the face of a brother's file. Do not push it, female. Just turn off its bout. As if I was sainted. Look at it, as a doubt. _ |
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#993 | Shut up and say it. I told him he was right. It strengthens the body. I definitely know this blight. _ |
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#994 | I'll call it an "annotated cello". And pretty fast at sea. How many times it-comes back to you. You wouldn't talk to me. _ |
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#995 | Smart. I've got to admit. Afternoon now "soon to be sun". You need one, any plan, even a book. No brainer, gather me, and done. _ |
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#996 | Only three? We can't have you answer "all-four". Whatever you say is-ok. Slap the hand for more. _ |
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#997 | Point to the dots oh fancy home. I swear the cabin has such peace. There's no explaining what that means. My dreams have discovered lease. _ |
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#998 | If-they're going to be silent. They will be. Nice kings for mothers. All rivers awake for tea. _ |
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#999 | There-is one bakery in sight. A couple of people have gone. Is that the same as opinion-harbour. Where I've eloped with wrong. _ |
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#1000 | Desperately in high measures. Banks would disagree. Loot is heavy don't touch one cuff. Her eyes hold too much sea. _ |
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#1001 | I have enough "prisoners" she said. Abandon hope at door. A friend of mine if I had one. Would caution that's amour. _ |
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#1002 | In your company how it shows. Just in time for bees. My ugly sweater for entertainment. Am I safe explaining trees. _ |
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#1003 | The-ways of living where fortunes dream. From sky to ground might ask. Are fevers just an in-between. Where lightning knows no path. _ |
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#1004 | Cars can oh through intersections. But two ways I pretend. Pause for just eternity. For that light to change again. _ |
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#1005 | Or ponder with some uncertainty. Which direction never ends. That time of choice a moment. That's poetry; my friend. _ |
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#1006 | Each death is a million roses. Like Cucumbers, at every grave. Lasting me, tearless until Sunday. Where onions make me shave. _ |
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#1007 | And, as I rotten, through my book. The pinstripe, is my stove. And bathing answers every nook. That Neptune far out chose. _ |
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#1008 | Mostly in Muskoka now. He'd like to meet, all priests in the Regina Sea. The good news is, they-surround you. I see what you're doing. You are saving me. _ |
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#1009 | Well yes that is kind of odd! Like cue balls with crazy spin. Unlike even-numbered geometries. That always scratch without that wind. _ |
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#1010 | Over-scopes as my mansion. Buttons as a sky. Men pretending, the uneven glen. Could descend to such a why. _ |
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#1011 | The beard was only mirror. Its hand was only play. And disgust, was just a little shadow. Wandering through, ok. _ |
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#1012 | Hydration being the only sinew. That Lakes can share through roads. And because all-charcoal filters eyes. Count men among the toads. _ |
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#1013 | Gleaming teaches soak the sun. Gliding teaches run. Upon the hindered, shelves we delve. Where mildew teaches none. _ |
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#1014 | As stomach is, so unheard of. Where salt-mixes with the rain. And magic by all circumferences. Is still insinuating, name. _ |
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#1015 | What we-condense we-are. The bus safely nets-us-far. I've been here so-much. In Canada eh? No touch. _ |
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#1016 | I know I'm "reading" it. Because it's engine caught on fire. What we have here is a tropical fish. We are in the kitchen, as-soup-mix. _ |
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#1017 | I'm never going to let that happen. Wasting west, "I do". His toys playing "around it". They're in the museum with bullies too. _ |
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#1018 | On the hill-closer "look at me". With mother but where is other. When they go to prison Humpty. They don't need you being Grumpy. _ |
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#1019 | Ok, let me ask you this. What's her name? When "there's rain on any car, she smiles." Making "all near-machines so silent." _ |
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#1020 | I "mean" it would be "mean" (if he stayed). To the Jackal then. (He-could if-would). Hi I'm Hank. To the X-rays. (as much as good). _ |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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