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Les Gottesman

On a Pool Table

Secrets moon the room.
A soft line smolders,
smokes crybabies.
But what if I’m wrong,
secrets ray out in the no-eme,
certainty a particle breeze,
and the name of the dream is light?
One eleven year old boy (I)
dreamed a movie with a title:
“What I Ate for Dinner in 1947.

 

 

 

An Age

 

 

Tear down the blue fence.

I’m mad for her answer.

Countries want volume.

Nations want silence.

People hide their assets.

Big trees, big trees.

Tomb of the elephant.

 

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