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Wednesday, February 06, 2019

Be ye my fictions; But her story.

Black Space:

Moon-afro, myself
outpaces me
in wonder of her.
 
She goes off and I seep
under the black sprout
of her house, to rise
 
a salmon bell on the hill
dissolving mild cloud fractals,
without grief or malice.

Ishion Hutchinson.

ntodd

February 6, 2019 | Permalink

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