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November 12, 2017
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It hangs by straight and hinging planes
Though symphony assaults her doors
It sifts from edge to singeing pains
For God will burn as Rintrah roars
The trees are old and wiser here
Taste lemongrass at river’s run
And meet me at the void’s frontier
To chase the dying of the sun
I’m fishing for the moon my love
Where shiver snaps a rigid rhyme
For thieves and Gods and children of
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Posted by: Sam | January 15, 2020 at 04:03 AM