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■ The oak
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You hung your sorrow
to the open ways of tomorrow under my desirable form You were born a delectable impatience of reprimanded substance as foreplay I dared withdraw my veil sustained the risk to be real insatiable in fervour I would die as dawn in harbour where my fireflies dance their wheel turning the improbable trance for another day You shimmered the facets of Eden the message at the end without irreparable confusion you smiled at the anchored sun incapable to ground and hear the murmur of divine sound as it lay I hid my cloud of stars in the mess under my empty jar a masquerade I suffered from your tangible echoes of absurd your absence floundered on the hip of my hunger only to stay You returned from sudden drifts turning upside down my wits mumbled an ugly word your soft unequal mood a sword I backed up to huddle off an inevitable struggle drained in dismay My rhythm opened the door of your morning Your carelessness flowed stained blood in my being Our motion blows an imperfect wind A breeze made of nothing August 29th, 2007
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