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poem a day may

Poem a day may. Monday, May 31, 2010. I turned on the faucet in my kitchen in Boston,. And it spilled our a miniature diorama of Brooklyn. Perfect to scale, cranes sleep with their necks limp. In a new industrial lot near the Projects. The traffic on the Belt coming off the Verrazano. Blinked exquisitely, competing rows of red and white glimmers. Dispersed through the streets of Bay Ridge and Prospect Park. Where the water swells heave and point toward the yellowing light. Perhaps it was the hour, or my .

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poem a day may

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Poem a day may. Monday, May 31, 2010. I turned on the faucet in my kitchen in Boston,. And it spilled our a miniature diorama of Brooklyn. Perfect to scale, cranes sleep with their necks limp. In a new industrial lot near the Projects. The traffic on the Belt coming off the Verrazano. Blinked exquisitely, competing rows of red and white glimmers. Dispersed through the streets of Bay Ridge and Prospect Park. Where the water swells heave and point toward the yellowing light. Perhaps it was the hour, or my .

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This web page poemadaymay.blogspot.com states the following, "Monday, May 31, 2010." We saw that the webpage said " I turned on the faucet in my kitchen in Boston,." It also said " And it spilled our a miniature diorama of Brooklyn. Perfect to scale, cranes sleep with their necks limp. In a new industrial lot near the Projects. The traffic on the Belt coming off the Verrazano. Blinked exquisitely, competing rows of red and white glimmers. Dispersed through the streets of Bay Ridge and Prospect Park. Where the water swells heave and point toward the yellowing light. Perhaps it was the hour, or my ."

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