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Keep it close
All these things are fantasy. Arm in arm, hand in hand, a thousand moments projected into the future and onto your skin, quiet and intense. Calling my name from across the room. Hearing your music, your patient artistry, fill our space and dovetail itself onto my heart. Dawn takes us, its sleepy charges, and aims…
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I am the soil
I sift the dirt through My fingers and make work Of root, stem, leaf Gone ginger with fall And the slow death of desiccation. I’m not sure what I search For. Whether it is the hoof Of a doe that came to me In a dream or the rapier Of a nightmare, I don’t know.…