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zyg
zyg
15/Neither/Nowhere A poem doesn't present definite objects in the world. It expresses plural worlds by way of embedded objects.
Each star is a flower, So close! Just waiting to bloom, So soon! Upon the inner dome
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Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 7:54 AM UTC
Tangible
You were once my only light, So strong against the night But the sun's ascent now done, My love for you has gone So cold against the sight, My heart, the mind despite, Must wither neath the scene
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Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 7:03 AM UTC
The Lost Warmth of Despair
A fire burns without me And a fire burns within And the fire continues to glow
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Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 5:39 PM UTC
Unanalogy
I am disturbed For this foul woman, Only hours before my end, Took to my precise imitation I speak through her even now, As I lie amongst my kin I am disturbed
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Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 3:43 PM UTC
Post Mortem
In out the cold These hands of stone Webbed with woven red Gemmed yellow-blue Softing, slowly Flesh displacing ice, Imperceptibly
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Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 3:23 PM UTC
Recovery
My humours dance: Strange balance! My heart divides, Now whole again! The dust invades But I don't strain! I flower
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Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 10:56 AM UTC
The Blooming
There is, at least, one soul In every stream, and each gust Of stirring wind, a thought. Such is the doctrine of mystics, Bored men of science, And of dreaming children too. But what is this worth? We have no oracle We have no ear for ghosts
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Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 10:10 AM UTC
Indifference
Take your heart to the air Dance in the wind, in my hair Draw out every joy, every pain In laughter, have no disdain In our world
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Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 6:52 PM UTC
A Stifled Moment
my body, my rules my body, i rule my body's mine my bodies, my... YOU'RE MY BODY YOU'RE MINE you're my i'm i'm your mind your, mine you're mine YOU SKIN I BONE you bring skin i bring limbs all limbs mine skin your mind
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Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 3:38 PM UTC
Φ
There is one It grows Free, it continues to grow But tension appears And welcome as it is, It must be relieved So now there are two No growth Opposéd, they cease to grow But war is their task And painful as it is, It must form a dance So now there are three Formed of syzygy, A pleasant mirage
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Feb 4, 2021
Feb 4, 2021 at 1:45 PM UTC
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