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Apr 23
where do they dwell,
deserters from mountain peaks,
the depths,
the deep hell, it can reach
but touch them no longer.

Swoop, soar, angels or spirits
floating between worlds,
white bodies and black fingers,
calling the freedom of flight their home.
deep hell it can
= pelican

I encountered this kind of poetry in "Fifteen Dogs"
Grace
Written by
Grace  F/Voie Des Papillons
(F/Voie Des Papillons)   
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