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Krawlen weather be it
serpent mind
ribs like knives
flexible as a cat o nines
the insect song
the heated weather
make meals of
the resting
the spice breath
the livid thud of
hot blood
in a constricted vein
the grasses are
weaving
ever so slow
in a slew of diamonds
tragic
stirring this way
the night comes
tongue tasting
with its darkness
lashing
tiger dreams
and a hush grip
unblinking moon
staring
....
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