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Poems

Misprint

2 January 2016

9:00 AM

2 January 2016

9:00 AM

Stealth is its policy. It lies in wait.
It is no respecter of age. It turns up late
Or far too early, without an invitation.
You may not notice this miscalculation
By your compositor, this turned letter
Or metathesis in the river of text
That flows, page after page after page, for better
Or worse, unproofed, through your perfect book of health.






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