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Mar 2017
I must travel
to where the cold wind
blows
the future is a piercing
arrow
through daydream's flesh
blood becomes
geometric shapes
fitting like puzzle
pieces in the
snow
their lines are bold
and their points
are sharp
as the continents
on a globe
I travel to the place
where cold wind blows
for shielded behind
thick wool is
all I know
Michael Blonski
Written by
Michael Blonski  California
(California)   
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