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Poets Hear
Poets hear
The goddess sigh,
Her moans,
See the tiny bits
She silently reveals,
Feel vibrations
Smell the scents,
And with pen,
Brush or bow,
Record the things
She does show,
Through these puzzle
Pieces so minute
The poet knows,
There is no shortcut,
Until one is ready
The goddess masturbates
Alone.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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