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Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Twisted support beams, reached into the rubbled streets, from the heat of 1000 paint jobs, bubbling in a breeze of noxious dust, gushing from the fallen cages, sealed into caves of vacant ships, where they smoldered with the older ways, long forgotten, and gone, one day.
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
A raindrop
That plops
Upon
My most
Opened
Eye

Again
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Scribbled
Tidbits
Fidgeting
The twiddles
Of a warrior
Wandering
Wayward
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Fold
A hand
That
Holds
Untold
Lows
Before
The turn
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Heaviest
Are the
Eyes
That look
Upon
The light
Squinting
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Easy as
Breathing
I ease
Into the
Back lit
Screen
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Sustained
Is the
Stasis
From the
Sanctuary
Of this
Spaceship
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