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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Dregs & Other Unreadables

amidst the soot


all my thoughts are crystals
contained in the curvature
of the blacksmith's
bellowing furnace.
the scarlet blaze baptises
each one until, right at
the heart where the licks
are sapphire
my dreams become obtuse
prisms refracting the gracious
and jet-black evil
into ecstatic hell
celestial despondence
and me.
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