1 Poetry

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Asomatous 11 Feb 2017 Tag: Prose

A Puzzlemaze of Blues

It didn’t come at dawn, it never has. This style of sky has always blossomed midday, or peaked on the break tides of sunset. Because of that I’ve never witnessed the actual miracle of its birth, catching it minutes or hours after it stenciled itself on the clouds. I’d like to believe we...

Stryder 19 Jul 2011 Tag: Prose

A The Sublimation

In the sweet garden of Aphrodite's blood orange orchard we have laid down recumbent as a dying sun. Clouds fickle as moontide seasons collude with virtual reality shades of cold vermilion. You say that all life is sacrosanct and we should honour the seeds of all thermophiles and organisms,...

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