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perspired in ripple
dragged by impetus
over vain terrain of event
a paper full of waste
is dropped into water
it lives
burgeoning like a flower
we flush
while the ash still clings
to the fingers
at the light
I stop
feeling the cornucopia of memories
solidifying as crystals in a cave
the petals of sweat
have drowned in a spiral
the longest arch
cuts the sky
from my cigarette a
doddle escapes
to meet the gliding
serpent of the stars.

Modern Poetry

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