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The Nacreous Oughts

02 February 2012


     35.
the fall of Rome, & all my secret griefs;
smoke melts into sky, from leaves once burned
a line at McDonald's slows · the frankford fiend
& the daylight curse
machine grinding its teeth · Phthiotan wine
six-leggèd soldiers quaff
callipygianize · the eschaton
into secret prisons
the mild winter sunshine
from pattern to texture
Guugu Yimithirr


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