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the word came involuntarily,
others were stuck, yet i knew
them to be beautiful, and
so they are.
he stood like a dancer,
arms out.

he looked
and moved,
like a dancer.
when the smaller

people go into hiding

where will genius

raise its head again,

among the flat islands of regard?
has been a long time coming, it lasted many years,

now is gone.

all of it, all the straight ideals and weathered work.
were the markers always there
left by some other
wanderer?

on paper
In the studio
that was so precise and quite particular
was dark blue with a little red added

lasted two weeks and still prominent
or is it the air changing?

mood settles, or is it the
time of year?
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