| 11 | Woolgatherings | |||||||||||
| Poe’s Lenore | ||||||||||||
| Pants 
        hang on hook on back of door Just said goodnight to Poe’s Lenore. Bottle of Scotch, was Dewar’s I think My boots under her bed, my nose at Her cheek, drifted off to blissful sleep. I dream easy of when 
          I was young,  A handful of clouds 
          and I was on my way,  A future I made with 
          each passing step, with  But her castle keep 
          contained every manner of ghost,  We lasted as long as 
          we stayed in the wall, away from   | 
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| R. Milan Gura | ||||||||||||
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