ON THE EDGE OF DESERTED
Imaginary wings take me flying to the shore of loneliness
MY ALWAYS QUIET PIER
I have shown you the place and time to anchor
IN THE ANGLE OF YOUR LIPS AND DRY
In the corner of your wet lips like pomegranate are bursting
ANGRY OLD POET IN MANABOA
More and more mouths gaping breathed out the smell of rotten eggs
A NOTE ABOUT YOU AND ME
Silence spun to silence on white lashes
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