Singing stones
droning monotone
we come here to perform
for the microphone
and I'm listening to you
so what's wrong with me
I'm not hearing it
the way I ought to be
and I'm talking loud enough
so what's wrong with you
why aren't my words
getting through
because we are singing stones
droning monotone
and stones are deaf
til you drive the chisel home
so come on and read me
your sharpest poem.
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