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Sep 2011
if do i(upon a rising fallen)
lift first myself to teeter
with breaths totally mingling
on the very subtle quiver

c
r)
e  e
  p(
in
g

and up the face of brevity
to one eternally beginning
(in were mounds of poppies
who vaulted swiftly blood
to swim upon your face
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
535
 
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