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These appetites fall on a spectrum

From the base to the obscure


Leaving us in the middle 

Hungry and insecure


You dive to the right

I fall to the left


Something aligns behind our eyes

At best, it's a guess


At one thousand miles an hour

The planet spins 


Our bodies both moving and inert 

Take the hits


Into the middle of the spectrum

We move in 


The hunger, out of bounds

Cut with the thirst of imagination

◄ Every Chance

Dirty ►


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Robert C Gaulke

Tue 26th Feb 2019 02:11

Cheers, Martin!

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Martin Elder

Sun 24th Feb 2019 19:44

Another wonderful poem Robert. Great to hear you reading it as well.
Nice one

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