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Pillowed
Beneath the putter
of December skies
twists the Magus,
who floats on dreams
concocted by
mortal lies
ensnared
in flecks
shed from
fear.
Such
wondrous
bounties
consume
vital tissue,
disbursing all
pure matter squeezed
through ecology
like fees tendering
lost gifts precious.
Copyright ©
John Weber
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