Thursday, November 17, 2022

 
     in an alter-world

    these are your hands threading fireflies
    at a silent pace in an alter-world
    where blind replaces light thank you
    for your hands in times like this


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  at the very least there were about fourteen of them crickets

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               Let the shapes               escape the oars                bent the eel-                   grass an                      arm...
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              a leopardess every growl and coarse lick of it  
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                dark night yes          lamps of the          purse seiners