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a sky crumbles into dusk
violet and vermillion flames
the symphony of voice in the trees

the undulations of waves

there are birds cutting currents
and beacons offshore
beyond the island dream

the paper is succint
and free of the cellophane
the aroma wavers
in bitter streams

the first sharp fire
cupped to the dusk
and the crackle
ride an edge thats
been dulled with
ache forever

honed sharp
and hot deep
within a rib

like the needle
of a star
and the fragment
of a cloud
to stich a wounding

Editing stage: 


I like this side if you. Simple title yet I still have to dig deep for the meaning. Two flames..each jaded by various circumstances..somehow have come form something beautiful...if only relationship could be so simple.

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE" cut..
face card....

viscosity in blurred edges...
sullen..sultry swollen

an off note

like the passing
and the scent


author comment

Can be anything you want..can mean anything you those two flames...

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

opinion of this one. Although I must say that your poetry seems to have taken a harder edge during my haitus. Still timeless, thought-provoking and moment-stopping - the qualities I love about your work - but with perhaps a touch of anger added.
Excellent stuff, keep writing.

Respectfully, Race

"Laws and Rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" - Race-9togo

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