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2009/04/25

the french commune 1871

as this word is hurt.
as its spine's cracked round the rim.
of your undying face so I am smitten with love's tongue
a bare backed tiger
wouldn't do better and t his is English Canadian poetry not the French hexameters of well measured verse nor is there a primer minister in this beef and baloney sandwhich. and I am lonely for the thighs of prettiness, and my eyes hurt. and with you i am competeitive without knowing
it
without knowing the shoreline
knowing this that only the newcomer last week spotted us
everyone else being too busy in their own heads. to see. a contagion pack. an epidemic? are you making me sick. already a . a book told tale of our love affair. can a love affair be brief . a few hours.

a life time of remembrance and grief follows to memory to remember.


people are even afraid. love is death. and they come with their armies and riots squads to beat you up. and the others rape. and kill maim and torture.this is how they treat the lovers of love.