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- Non-Erotic Poetry
- How Does Your Light Shine?
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His hurt feels fantastic like dim alley-way shortcuts in winter. We lie spent, we three, when we become red like poppies. Wait. I am moments from lillies and wildflowers, fresh cut grass in damp spring, worms. The smell of susceptibility or samsara. Warmth fans out to my limbs. I moan the moan of ages of waiting. Earth oozes and settles between our toes, in the cracks of our worn feet. No feeling but feeling. Nothing but the night.
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