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when winter came

Published on January 8, 2018

They pressed the petals of their ambitions
next to any heat source they could find.
Not knowing where a blade of hope would be stymied,
it came to a head—finally.
The craft became so large in his field of vision,
it would have usurped a fleeting glance;
fortunately, at that moment several large figures began to descend.
Only wanting to be tethered to a salt flat
and the shape of her mirage,
he opens the door.
Its outlay might wince in translation from the norm,
but only if another figure stepped in.
“It depends,” she says, “on whether you would allow process
to unbind me.” I always saw my life as one unbroken
plain of residual consciousness.
If I had known how severely the Three would wince
at his approach, perhaps the unfurled darkness would
have chosen to amend its stay upon the dais.
As an exercise, it was almost finished by
a gap between the open beams. That said—
and she knew a positive organ after a while—
innumerable silver fellows posited
a return to the rain. I wished for a world where
crosses were silent,
to live and extinguish in a moment.

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