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Friday, July 16, 2004

Poem - But I Have To Make A Living

Gouge the lines of a ledger book
across my back and balance out my
life in the red of ink before the
red of blood makes a tinted gesso
on your canvas.

I can tell you the sum and total
before you go through the effort;
if you would get to the heart and soul
of me, there would be no reason to
emphasize my zeros.

Another receipt -- my blame shifting
adds one more to the negative column.
I am a zero in the absolute sense; you
take anything away from me.

There is nothing left to give.
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