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Onoma
Poems
Aug 2019
Marooned
the cicadas know where the wind
went that quit my window--their
branches refuse to conduct.
yet their cadence remains perfected.
singing the wind's futureless window
under a summer sun, is not a punishable
offense.
it's the application of sound to the sense
of some perception, steadily building...
till marooned.
Written by
Onoma
NYC
(NYC)
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Aladdin Aures H
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