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THE MOOR DANCES

Mark Boccard

POETRY THAT NAVIGATES WITHIN
P E         N       S
   TR          I   ES  IT IN
 O  R    A  N   G  E  WITH
P E    T A  N     T S   THIN
P        A      G  ES  I   N
THE RUBBING TOGETHER OR THE
T   R   I   T  E     OR   E
        IN      THE
T    U   N     E
          G  O  THER      E
T            O       O   HE
WILL SIMULATE WITH JERKS AND
     S      E W
W     I    T     H
W         AT    T      S
                TH  E
W     I  L T        E      D
WILL SCATTER GOLDEN STARS ON THE
  L    ATTER. O   N   A
WI             LD    T R  O  T
        T     O      T        HE
W      AT ER    D     AR     T
W         E         ST  S     HE
WILL COME FORWARD ON HANDS AND KNEES
W     O     R      N  AND
   L    E     A    N  A  S A
       M   O   R  O    N S
W       E             A        K
W             A    N    D          S
IN OPEN FIELDS AND UP THE SLOPES
   O    F    S AND    THE S   E
IN      F      AN     T        S
    PE    EL   A    P   E S O
   O               U  T
I       F              HE  LOPES

 








Poetry that navigates within pens tries it in orange with pet ants. Thin pages in the rubbing together or the trite ore in the tune go there too. He will simulate with jerks and sew with watts. The wilted will scatter golden stars on the latter. On a wild trot to the water, dart west. She will come forward on hands and knees, worn and lean as a moron's weak wands. In open fields and up the slopes of sand, these infants peel a peso out if he lopes.



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