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Ira Desmond
Poems
Aug 2010
The Pilgrimage
as you turn away
your face wanes
like the face of the moon
hair, billowing black
and white shades
enlace from east to west
love tastes like
the vastness of the
starred space above
and below
it is sound ceaselessly echoing
off the walls of a canyon
the galaxies careen
outward in the endless dark
like spores, searching
Written by
Ira Desmond
39/M/Bay Area
(39/M/Bay Area)
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