The Mystique of broken glass on the walls
The swell to cross the barbed wire tore
Who innocence
My Love Is a hypertext
nerve Peace
Buried in the nave
A gondola
A heavy gold sickle
In a field of violets
the wake of sex mingled with the thought
The captive of the senses
pegs Circe
Who shake the story: Hung
lips apocryphal childhood
Our bodies repatriated.
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