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Twinkling Parallax

Poems, prose, short fiction, and other rubbish.

The called me a radical hung me by a noose upside in the city garden

Posted by Prester John Monday, January 11, 2010 at 8:34 PM

Feels like the space age
feels like a mirror.
Screaming like a razor blade
singing with her fingers.

Pour,
pour,
pour,
pour
your
eyes for
Marianne.

 

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