smorgasbord of poetry, photos, political hairballs...MOTEs "More energy, grit and real life in them than 96.8% of the bullshit that comes into the Corpse."
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Sunday, December 31, 2017
Powder blue, Celeste, Periwinkle, Baby
Powder blue, Celeste, Periwinkle, Baby;
the tones of the sky, winds of a lady
fierce; Teal and Viridian, crossing lights eyes
Indigo watched, their verdure her prize
as mother Zafire her Indigo embraced
giving horizon a long Steel pause; Cyan his face
etched empty promise, Cornflower-lies,
skin of soul's ceiling, Palatinate demise
devolving Royal Duke Dodger, their cards in the trash
by Ultramarine's ocean stairs stares Iris, smashed;
plural the blue in varied display,
Byzantine mirror of peace portrayed
action describing, the morph and her flavor
his tongue yon mountain, a glacial savor
2017
Portland friggin Oregon
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