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Onoma
Poems
Jan 2020
Night Boxes
night boxes fit in to
one another, too big and too
small to come of anything.
yet contain sleep.
this blood kept warm to hover
over.
this mouth breaking open when
stuffed with silence--to call out
some urgent matter.
that echoes in the Minoan labyrinths
of waking ears.
Written by
Onoma
NYC
(NYC)
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Juneau
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