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November 9, 2004 - A poem about Friendship


the world spins
and strange string
pulls the gyroscope
on arms of time.
Hard truth rolls
this drawn arch bow
rounding glass spine
compass reel.
Above the poles
like clunky kids
on dusty fairground ride
skipping caller’s dance
of push-tin picadors
and broken wheels.
May you always glide
circling in blithe orbit,
grasping slipstream
haloed bracelet sky -
defying grace’s fall.


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