Non-Erotic PoetryFrom there to herefluid
flighty, wafting into words and order
I feel the reach, from noun to verb
and nothing
becomes I
by deft strokes - and
color grows from barren dust
glinting in darkness and being moves
to Be
fragrance blows when I rush
along the thin grey rope spanned across
eternity; the rod of enterprise a balance
against the wave of time
solid
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English
DECESCIONS ABOUND
on whether to be a poet or a painter. TK U MLJ LV NV
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