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First Shapes series poem: Circle


Circle

There's a coffee ring on the map
right around, Lincoln, Nebraska

large lense held up to the eye
makes the globe spin like poker chips

maybe a crescent moon tonight we
can hang our dreams from

there's a baseball game in the stitched
seconds it takes to throw your cares away

O drop the jaw for a song in the sunrise
we sang in our youth round and round

when the night was records and the
moon was a zero out of time

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