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Poetry Magnum Opus

piano in the desert


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I must be the last,

the dead pretending

to be alive have passed

a candle like a baton and

wait for my demise beneath

bullet shredded skies. I

play a piano and rhapsodize

the music helps to keep me

alive, the ghosts dance a

ballet each holds a bullet

with my name. One last ghost

stands on a provisional grave,

the candle is now a gun with each

click one of my senses is gone.

I join the ghosts and dance.

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