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spark quickly the rise
Spark quickly the rise,
Dilating dark with glitter stars of cats eyes.
A language we sausage use.
Clumsy myths attenuated
With parachutes of feelings mapped;
Syncopated copiously.
A door opening those parts explored, for instance.
Snail trails of shiny slime on wet pavement;
Mirrors looking backwards,
Entwining organs through time.
Primarily another path
That leads me back to you.
Copyright ©
Vernon Witmer
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