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Onoma
Poems
Oct 2019
What That Bareness Saw
rusty dusks
leave twinges
of sunlight that
may not lift from
where they lie again.
shadowed corpus
growing late to rise--
the psudeonymn
of the last stranger.
revealing what was
so perfectly hid away--
delivered by the cost of
articulation.
bared--that's all, who's to
say?
as no one can see what that
bareness saw.
Written by
Onoma
NYC
(NYC)
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