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I am the word juggler.I juggle the wordslike swords.I slice sensewith poetic license.
There she was on the news,Miss Goody Two Shoescaught on CCTV.
Don't look so shocked.Of course you know who – who else but Goldilocks!
I opened a bookand a hand fell out.I turned a pageand heard a shout:'I'm lost in a wood;my mother's no good.'I couldn't bear to look
The man sitting on the settee,stroking a cat and watching TVisn't me.I am the settee.
Who will bring me the hush of a feather?“I,” screeched the Barn Owl. “Whatever the weather.”
Who will bring me the shadows that flow?“I,” snarled the Tiger. “Wherever I go.”