Some people would ask,
how I write my poems,
and I would,
open my mouth,
and say,
the moment,
that pen,
hits that paper,
every thing,
that is stored up in my head,
spills,
out,
into,
one,
big,
poem.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Author’s Secret
Posted by Ana Cobana at 7:17 PM
Labels: COPYRIGHT 2008
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