Nagourta Poems

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Bad Air

The hands come under the doorcrack.
The hands creep through the window.
The sunlight doesn't touch me.
The hands come and they touch me.

We Are But Birds

All who dwell among us
They are but birds.
They are sometimes beautiful,
and sometimes happy.

A Spider Dying

I am so tired, and so sad.
I never thought things could be so bad.
Suspended high above the earth,
Void of laughter and of mirth.


I was born on a submarine
I only know what I'm told
About what I've never seen
About warmth and cold.

The Lake

He had always wandered whilst he slept,
Waking wherever he had walked.
Never had it taken him too far,
Often he went home drifting with the stars.

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