Saturday, February 27, 2010

In The Cushions Of My Most Amiable Of Skies Comments

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I took a lover to the mouth of the river:
You could see down to the bottom of its speckled liver;
And she hung upon me like a bulb
Of rosy weekdays; but I still walked back home through
...
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Robert Rorabeck
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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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