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take my hand, walk with me to the lands beyond the horizon, tingling superposition of pin-drops on the wet tile, obelisks rising above the river bank, shut temples to the god of love, buried scabbard; the nights of embraces, red bus out of the mist, the hymn to the autumn goddess; curled serpent memories: hiss-lurking behind - and the bare bough by the frost-bitten lake; Saw me through and I may flame out like a flower *** hundred beads of coloured smoke; On the way, there can be a home hooded go the nights personalities, that seethe worlds out of the keyhole it is all the swaths that people the in-betweens of is and is not
0
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 4:28 PM UTC
is and is not
take my hand, walk with me to the lands beyond the horizon, tingling superposition of pin-drops on the wet tile, obelisks rising above the river bank, shut temples to the god of love, buried scabbard; the nights of embraces, red bus out of the mist, the hymn to the autumn goddess; curled serpent memories: hiss-lurking behind - and the bare bough by the frost-bitten lake; Saw me through and I may flame out like a flower *** hundred beads of coloured smoke; On the way, there can be a home hooded go the nights personalities, that seethe worlds out of the keyhole it is all the swaths that people the in-betweens of is and is not
prabhu-iyer
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Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 4:28 PM UTC
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