| poems | ||||
| no. 1 | ||||
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meshugga-sugared twice-spiced hot, spiraling darts like stars feeding on dark skies. unexpected collisions looning and spooning not suicidal or bridal. empty vessel to filled up cup, pleasantly weighted in the waves with your crumbly, moist nutcake love |
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| Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License | ||||