ForkWordPoems by Inchiki |
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Cut rose lit with shadows hovering near, a flickering fire thin smokes, incensed curl and ripple north into the room's night past the passive face of my most melancholic lover This is reflection - now I am alone with the wholly stupid flies In a white room, I listen to the rattle of the clock; a mechanically quiet gloom from the red notebook, 1998 |
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