A Gathering of the Tribes

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Constellation

universelook there brightness stunned ice blind awake endlessly bright burning oscillation whirl’d unto me whirling unto itself green infinitely implacably lemon adored sipped gulped gurgled least little wick ‘d light i sleep knowing you don't and i will wake onto you here scale or there climb slashing clomping morsels of being loved blind.

by Poonam Srivastava