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Mist
Today cannot decide.
I linger, eyes at half-mast,
beneath a dome of curdled milk
and a star sleeping in.
I pretend to exist
until I take form,
like a watercolor
bleeding...
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The Waiting Game
The waiting game of wondering seemed,
once all the ruins were raw, to have ended
or just begun. “O Elders within,” he mused,
“I receive you in...
