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the third owl
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
elegy
My only consolation,
to the role I played in your death
is that you were fast asleep,
before the alcohol
singed and stung
your tiny wings
and motionless, lifeless bodies.
The air had left your miniature lungs.
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the third owl
under the ocean, Antarctica
I just want to touch the moon. جيسي
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