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…and the last thing I said
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as December hymns her chorus
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eyes swallow the sky
like sapphire wine; poured
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I heard your voice
just now
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Opening curtain:
How like footlights,
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On the White Winds of Winter
I flee &
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marooned
in the maelstrom of solitude
-
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encircled in star-thistle glint
climbing curling
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wandering
in slumber’s sultry envisage
-
since infancy she’s spoke to me
her potent sway a dark decree
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voices trapped in yearning
like captured fireflies
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in nocturnal evocation’s
phantasmal phases
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Standing at the bar’s blue edges
staring into my margarita
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within the breath
of a moment
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unsheathed under a breathless moon
spread upon sand-spurry sheets
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I have tasted the moon
like honeysilk upon my tongue
-
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in the incandescent
indigo iris
-
from
the searing sienna range
-
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in the cockcrow
of morningstar maize
-
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from deep within
a cocoon of sophistry
-
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and there he sits behind that desk
his banal life, a bleak burlesque
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I pause spellbound
beneath sauvignon skies
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I yearn for him
in the ominous waning hours...
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yesterday,
from behind glass walls we gazed
-
I swim in fiery red cinders of
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