Tropic Troping Bird
My world is each changeling stroke, a god’s blue breath. Where clutches end, nothing much to grasp. My skin shines like melted pennies. That’s how the light is on watch. Eternity is incremental. A mouth- to-trough existence is simple. Our regard for each other a series of seconds raring to stare and stare. Narcissistic? Not for me to say. All is blood gain, fib by fib. I wonder, hot-bladed “loon,” are you one such bit of marginalia, a pattern of foxfire scat strewn wherever I turn? Love of pleasure wakes you,...
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