The Story of the Bags

04/28/2007

in Kari Poems

A trusses pattern while ahoy splinters, see and yellow deep green batch compress. So late is the night we drive into our knees. Electric Blanket sidesweeps and in horsehair the more matter punched in with letters L like V like C like G G G a mark by mark a deer horn drifting in.  I am Laura and I am Ashley and I  Juicy You and I am Kari oh having a Kari. Hand in the files.

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