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A Perfusion of Urn


Raise the high finger 
wave, make waves

let my pie fly
consecrate the sky.

Where plusses
rift deuces

battle mortal cruces
crave for truces.

Buffer and squeeze
the holy breeze

beating
the bounds.

Arises
and flies

troubled tangled
undisguised

speaking of
pathways to love.

But where beauty brings
uneasy things

contrarity
is a constant companion

never immune
from yearning

from overturning
cart for coal.

My Grecian windflower
in a perfusion of urn

mother of invention
and the eternal return.


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