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May 4, 2023 / barton smock

father oh

The bones of a golden something
A fingerprint on a trap door

The toothache and the soul and the toothache

A grey hair, god’s, from the unreached
of lightning

Baby blur asking blue 
for mercy
while choking
in a snowglobe

I will change 
that line

One Comment

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  1. Pablo Cuzco / May 4 2023 1:01 pm

    The last line.

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