orgami's Diaryland Diary

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tisdale

tremors have levelled
out the sync wave
sufficed and fattened
rising like the tide
and falling like the
sunlight against the
crest of hill

night fills its wanton
mood
sliding with the fashion
moon

I wander in the burial rooms
the glass is smoked with fires
buried deep

like stacks against the sea skies

3:55 p.m. - 2011-02-03

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