Tinsel Wing

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Poetry archive 4

In which I continue to inflict my old poems on my readers.

This impertinent snippet never had a title, but if it had, it would probably have been "Entire Sanctification".

The rain is always incomplete.
It sweeps the dust from off my feet;
It leaves the jam between my toes,
And what will cure it, heaven knows.


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