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Guerrilla, my love
Guerrilla, my love, save some passion for me. There’ll be mangoes, freshly cut azaleas & siestas. But your callouses must be ready to soften.
Read moreThe man-child points his rifle
The man-child points his rifle at me. I unbraid time; relinquish my right to cry for his losses. Both our eyes are open, looking at nothing.
Read moreTop this.
Top this. And he unbuttons the flannel, revealing etched ripples of flesh & a blooming fountain of scars. They ohh and put their guns down.
Read moreEffigies of intelligence were set alight
Effigies of intelligence were set alight at dusk to roars from the crowd. Ash fell like manna, smothering what was left of the light.
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