There the moon suckled on a dram of mist,
bringing illustrious pomp to cardboard mountains,
who cut like a sickle, horizons sincerity,
and I could taste trouble, spoon fed
from darkness that sprinted towards completion.
Something crawled from the canal,
a gaseous presence like a primordial phantom;
opalescence in peek-a-boo stars.
Incantations stirred in the attic of my mind,
spectres of remembrance copulating
in...
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