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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in The Personal Space of U668857

Wintering

sky is ice and wine
the blanching air is a knife
frost bites my numbness
could I crack my frozen pond
goose pimple again
at the moon's clarity
and star-tingling zenith

still I'd want your wonder
pointing out the obvious
your unfamiliar phenomena
should I impose my hopes
embrace your second sight
I'd almost thaw in frost
cut my teeth on blades of light

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