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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Saturday, October 17, 2020
a broom to sweep
a broom to sweep
a fire
to burn
a cloth and bucket, and
mop
to wash.
a spray
a brush, a tool
to scrape
a new lock on
the door,
the gate. block,
no contact,
delete delete delete,
that's how you do it.
to get out,
to escape.
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one more chance
dear frank lloyd wright
everything under the sun
there is always hope
the internet
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a much better view
regret
making amends
it's all gravy
the blue jay
sugar cone
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midday walk
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one super power
when the plague ends
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where he needed to be
betcha by golly wow
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at our own pace
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bring mercy
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a dry martini
yadda yadda yadda
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perhaps tomorrow
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what goes inside
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there's something i need to tell you
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let's go home, my dear
there is still time
the venus spin
looking back
every way you look at it you lose
in search of icing
in the cold cellar
there is less
a raindrop
bring the fire blanket
her new shangri-la
finding happiness
less is more
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About Me
Stephen Chute
west springfield, virginia, United States
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
View my complete profile
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