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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #1250146
I watch my past being eaten by a bulldozer
A BOWL OF MEMORIES
April 17, 2007

Munching hoofprints
for breakfast, scrambled paths,
and shed hides, digging a bowl
for its oatmeal clumped with bits
of rock and dirt and rolled roots,
the shovel digs its meal from my memories
as if it were only earth seasoned
with wind and cooked by fire.
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