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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:45:39 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 172494
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Thus Began the Butterfly
[time] => 2012-05-14 17:06:22
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Thus Began the Butterfly In the empty sea something formed That could form again Thus began the butterfly The moon is glass The golden leaves are ice The falconer rides the wind Hear his funny rifle Sight down its bore A dog camel, untended Within its host the jester folds A silver blanket With a crust of poetry As machines collapse to monkshoods. The wires which seemed so high Now touch the ground Wolves run the burning world See their flame in the windows Feel the melting street The golden man upon the road Starved on roses, Made love to lilacs And prayed to the violet's skull From its altar march The small red ants of history [comments] => 1 [counter] => 208 [topic] => 74 [informant] => richard2 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => surreal )
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