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Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
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Friday, 12. January 2007

After hours



After the sun had become a memory, An apparition glanced at briefly Between surfacing in the dark to dive into The murk of work, and re-entering back again into Sleep's allocated hours,

When I emerge into this dusk In its dainty dress of rose, I scrabble for veined sunstones lining its hem.




My Poems

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