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Yurish

In the tissue of perception,

by glass grace intuit haze filter

Zooming higher alter, flexible

In the sands of an encroaching go

Radiant twists filing fine shoots

Less vexing where the gyser light flies

Tucked deep like a small insect

Gazer fireless size

As sounds, pedaling, molecule situ

Channeling borne fetal to time

In the red iron size garnet flexing fusion

We see the bells heightening our skin to ash

Boasting mast from lip to lash

A verdant bird in metered stern

Large in sea to sea, misery hysterical

Yellow eye of starry calf

Siding in vehement lays

The massive tidal storm

 

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2 Comments

  1. Since you are such an accomplished poet in your own right, and I’ve read more than a smattering of modern work, or at least that much, I doubt not but this is a veritable beauty in its own right. Albeit I was lost somewhere in the vocabulary which swore there was a vision past the fog I reveled in and which I was supposed to pierce, yet which I did not. Lovely and thought-provoking, as if it would be most satisfying read in the company of a pot of tea. For two, would that be?

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