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Jul 19
She thinks her words describe what's going on but
the rock spins beneath feet, her eyes sunk with stars,
Hold on.
Perhaps in 10,000 more religions Saturn will collapse to rock and
our dreams explode, drawn up  to flocks
of speech breaching air and
We are wings, Sailors with sextants; Dead cells becoming hairs
to grasp at trajectory.  
I let my toes go between  trickles of sea.
Robert C Ellis
Written by
Robert C Ellis  Greenville, SC
(Greenville, SC)   
   Wk kortas
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