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Free Grass (20 Haiku)

November 11, 2009
by


Some more from the linguistic copulations of Lawrence Lessig and Walt Whitman (LL + WW etched in the tree).

__________________

 

Welcome to me, or
rock or stump, and thus touching
you is tragedy.

~

I’d be digitized,
or desolate, I don’t like
the environment.

~

To do, and may be
maximized, the system is
free to come on drugs.

~

All life, composite,
tied in your garage. You and
the belt at bedtime.

~

I, the high court clerk.
This book, compulsion, C4.
A font of Brooklyn.

~

The soul of what was
noncommercial, I wrote an
editorial.

~

O Death Supreme, to
make money from this book is
a function of guilt.

~

Forget file sharing.
I hear the quality of
American life.

~

And is not lefty
in any sense. And by law
to sleep with cartoons.

~

Delicate beauty,
alternate light lighting, and
the Great Depression.

~

I think that there is
limitless space outside of
ourselves and trees.

~

O all dear to me
these bubbles, if need be, a
vast amount of you!

~

The grass grows, but strong
and arrogant woman I
like it publicly.

~

What was once “The Man”
I love, lips of love and that
which requires it.

~

Land of filmmaking,
faculty, pulse of Saddam,
Dissatisfied, Inc.

~

Continue on! The
track of beams, subject to a
pupil is flapping.

~

My children, merging
all moving images and
sound to history.

~

Red River is no
rights reserved. The female is
perfect, enabled.

~

The law is, even
if you like Lyle Lovett, you’re
going to be used.

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