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a corpse among crows (07/15/2025)
we touched the sky
with suffered silos:
feigned gates on which my love might hang
scabbed wreaths creaking in idle winds
peppered, long-feln
to keep the flies off
to keep some facsimile of youth intact
another field-dressed carcass
only good for sausage
by the watershed.
ground is a funny word, isn't it?
rough-hewn earths and
torn up turfs and
a finer...
Tuesday 15th July 2025 10:54 am
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