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Poetry
Imperfect Hand

"Imperfect Hand" - 3/3/07

if I can't tell you
soon
I think I will
explode with waiting

waiting's such a productive thing
it makes you write
straightens your spine
helps you defray
the cost of submitting

full as you become
with the counting of each
white cloud passing
and each rising/setting
of the orange sun

nonetheless,
I crave you more
the more you make me
wait it's a good game - bliss!
this chance to be absolutely
certain that if those words

ever reach the surface
they'll be mutually spoken
affectionately received
by both of us at once
from one another or like
gold greedily pilfered
in case we should
weaken someday
and stoop to
steal them

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