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The day flutters like ticker-tape I smile like Buddha Unzipping the night A pocketful of whistles A dark ceiling of stars. The needle is threaded Night wide open The engine cranks over A cello of moans. A tattle of gold My ways of turning To ripples of silver, a hush. Was it you who bring Red lines of lupus A world of wheals and whirs. Through the terminus Blue walls of morphine A corridor of trains A thunder of hosts. Buzz of blue flies Slip through the eyelet Me gluing a matchstick of men. The days drag behind Seven hours in a sack Spilling stars Through a leper's blind eye. Unloosen the screws The singing of prisoners The clouds fall away The snow drips impossible light.
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Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 12:24 AM UTC
A Hush
The day flutters like ticker-tape I smile like Buddha Unzipping the night A pocketful of whistles A dark ceiling of stars. The needle is threaded Night wide open The engine cranks over A cello of moans. A tattle of gold My ways of turning To ripples of silver, a hush. Was it you who bring Red lines of lupus A world of wheals and whirs. Through the terminus Blue walls of morphine A corridor of trains A thunder of hosts. Buzz of blue flies Slip through the eyelet Me gluing a matchstick of men. The days drag behind Seven hours in a sack Spilling stars Through a leper's blind eye. Unloosen the screws The singing of prisoners The clouds fall away The snow drips impossible light.
This is a second draft of a new poem. I hope you like it. I hope for a response, dear reader. TJ Struska
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Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 12:24 AM UTC
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