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Mar 2012
Reticent, morning hides
behind boles of alder, the air
escaping his lungs

Calcifies in my chest.
A caustic mist mists
Over the rivers pane. Thick

White trails into fine liquid
Black, interring the
slight, torn body. Orange sky-swell

Washes incandescent green:
Dark sienna burns
A path to the waters scorched

White stone. The wood
Holds no sympathy: alacritous
calls knife the sorrowful heart.
Oliver James washed in the rain, no longer.
thomas gabriel
Written by
thomas gabriel
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