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badger11

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badger11

revision

 

Those roaming clouds
which seek my breath
with puffs of flesh
as cold as snow;
that stab through bone,
that hack of crow,
that clotted sky,
what do I know?

These cradled clouds
like moths I nest
in netted hands
my brooding foe;
why are they here
so far below,
out of my cloth
when will they go?

Between the dunes
of truth and lies
a host of clouds
we can but sow;
that quiet of ghosts,
that shroud of woe,
that blur of years,
how will I know?

 

 

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original

 

Those roaming clouds
which seek my breath
with puffs of flesh
as cold as snow;
that stab through bone,
that hack of crow,
that clotted sky,
what do I know?

These cradled clouds
within both hands
like moths I nest
another shadow;
why are they here
so far below,
after they rest
where will I go?

Between the dunes
of clues there lies
a host of clouds
we could not hear;
that quiet of ghosts,
that blur of years,
that lost halo,
how could I know?

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