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Every poem is a furball.  Strands of ideas, images, emotions and thoughts build up in the gut over time until they are sufficient to form a ball.  This must be expelled; you will feel better for it.  You will not be able to cough up your furball until it’s good and ready, but you can encourage it along with judicious applications of cod liver oil (or substitute other preferred liquid) and a tickle under the chin.

 

 

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Wordle: janisfreegard.com

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Tuesday Poem

Tuesday Poem

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