Category: Waking Up
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The psithurism of the autumn forest flutters as the madmen of the otherworld profit from global uncertainty. I drive the point of a walking stick into the ground and take a breath or two. Eyes gazing outward and around. The forest is wet and orange. The trunks of the trees…
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The wetness of the town out there As I sit at the window in the coffee shop The soft clank of cups, the murmur of voices Beads of water against the glass The gentle jangle of a door opening The smell of the brewing and wool coats The unfurling of…
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The ancestral drift of dinner plates 5:15 am egg glow a smile in a mirror old antique wall ghost teeth a creepy smile an old hat in a mist a scarecrow in dawn’s early light a fake patriot cradling a cobalt bomb and a Bible in flames burnt toast in…
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