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Apr 4
come closer love upon the legs of time
cast out the stagnant evening on the clay  
the silverfish of stars are set to climb
and lavenders have licked away the day
Melville found his mother in the sea
and is not every ocean heaven’s land?
Bronte knew in blindness that we see
ourselves inside until we understand
those  fickle tricks in atmospheres on earth
the dupe in prism’s color played by light
the transitory nature of an oath
or ribs of truth around a waist of lies
and under love and kindness, what sleeps there?
The heart of every creature that we fear
Written by
L Maughan
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