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The Borrowed Poem
To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
New York
I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night, and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines gives to the restless eye.
The Great Gatsby
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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slowly with you,
Won't you
always
I Ask You
First Anniversary of The BP
At a Window
Come back to me.Apocalypto
speaks to me
on jealousy
a pillow for my soul.
and I realize... Life is good.
I am lying
Nobody loves no one
Bliss!
New York
Water Serpent II
Whatever happens.
he smiles a real smile
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About Me
Steve Grant
New York, NY
Be patient that I address you in a poem. There is no other fit medium.
View my complete profile
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