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Making Bread and Other Food for Thought
On and on we meander
in might-have-beens:
the black spray-painted bed
in two-room efficiency apartment:
your roan lion mane of hair spread out
on white sheets like a lace of sea
we swim upon,
soft stones lapping one another
as the gurgling, artesian gush
from a brief sheath of time
drips from you, primal amoebas
rising and falling
from a froth of flaxen sea,
a yeast of life
in the unlit oven.
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