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Oct 2018
the moon dilutes
and frights brass-warmed stars, the
crab apples of your story

fall, so let me hide you in
a box under sticky earth.
You are eyeless and unsighted;

rain falls like dog's gravel
and all these short days
are scattered and running,

the wind pushes you aside
Written by
Leslie Philibert  63/M/Germany
(63/M/Germany)   
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