twospiralgalaxiesRadial

Raw. A faraway mesh
Of whisper:

There is still unripe fruit
Upstream

Looking through a window
Part of you vanishes
One part’s preserved
Unusual,
Unstained

The device of memory is
Wildly scented

There is an imperative
To fight against transcription
Etched upon an institute of wind

But rather,
Let us stretch forth our arms
Yonder spanned
And bind ourselves
As to a bridge,
As to a table
Held within
The intensity
Rendered
Above
Stasis.
As doves

Ingrained

Are chronicled

I am
Here.

gjh.

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