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Something is Coming

 

Beneath the biscuit-bitten moon of dawn

Something’s coming.

There’s a hint of something unknown,

unprecedented enough that even the howling wind has flaked

To something spider-thin;

To the bare wire frames of lyricism.

 

 

Since then, the sky has darkened.

 

 

And static has started to  skitter across asphalt and window-frames.

 

 

L...

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