Messages of love, no less,
To someone I have not met,
For souls of dead poets
Fill feathers and bellies
Inside swans on rivers far
Below where the living
People go, five thousand
Below, sulphuric, dead,
Like kissing the ringed
Ankles and body of the
Last unwed daughter
Of an avian god.
Nick…
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Thank you. Sigh.
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😊💜👊🏻
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Yes, how it is
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