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18 April 2009 @ 10:25 pm
Writer's Block: Taxmen and Poetry  
It's Tax Day in the U.S., a day when the mind might be too occupied with deductions and long lines at the post office to think about poetry. But let's try: what's your favorite line of poetry? Song lyrics count.
Not so much a line, but a small extract from a long song:
architecture tincture of red Arkies
pinched the southern belle
and splayed his cracked nail hand
grey fedora--snappy band
and the camel walls yelluh like damp dead chickens
beak down the hard wood floor
and the music--O the music
harp man blew his best lung white shirt
his feet worked like a monkey out the door
and Dora robbed a baby through a dark bebop
licorice lenses fogged in hot sorrow
through the floorboards at the general store