Hunger comes back like a dagger
on face. With iris and fingerprints.
Live, fluttering butterflies, stuck
on lampshades. Wrecked, frozen, the ending
of seeming. Men in cages.
They were diluting the culture.
Chlorophyll siphoned off. No color,
no sprouts. The roads were dirty
with the ultimate truth, quarreling with the
water, insanity and vertebrae.
The creamy stuff, shouts and pants,
shunting the definitions. People come
and...
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