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Poem 1: A Beginning

I sat and I wondered, to myself in my head, what shall I do before going to bed? "There's not much day left; there's no time ...

Friday, January 21, 2011

Poem 99: Speling

Allthoe the anser iz oftin uhvaylabull
itz naught allwaise eezie too deeturmin
whitch let-her progreshon two deefur too.
Purrhaps the purrson who roat the dicksionairy
wood caire to kuntribeaut eh leson inn
sownd reckegnishon oar
simplea provyde uh realyable sorse
uhf let-her deafinishon.

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