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Benjamin Aptaker
Poems
Feb 2012
Vine
Reality a vine
cut short as it grew
tangents of grapes
each fell a direction its own
revelations of faces
in alternate places
cross stretches of spaces
like speed of light races
time travel acquired
time line expired
time itself, tired
time, into minds, wired
like electrical current
like electrical impulse
like instinctual whims
like sensual sins
Written by
Benjamin Aptaker
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