Friday, August 8, 2014

Warm Storm Comments

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i lay with her pets in a trance on a snowflake
she whispers gales that limp to the gully of a dream that drips violet curtains.
I have zeros in my ears until she is there
yoking shadows that grind and gnash against the paste yellow of hard squash
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Luke J. Holt

Luke J. Holt

fullerton CA
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