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Satin Galleys

The mirror is dormant
Chipped paints and oil gears
Wind under the planchette

Mr. Potato Head's nose sprouts
The most curious vegetation;
green cells and black olives
It is displeasing.

The magician undoes
the mirror in noir sacraments,
blue light and broken bird hymns,
the spine a flute used by a man
cutting through batteries, and who
puts toxic avenger goo in his tea.

Mystery restores innocence.
All the darkrooms in the world
contain the worst nudity, not
as implied. The space in the poem----
take it and thank yourself with it,
ringing a wendigo's dreamcatcher

somewhere. Love the space you were
left in, till it expanded and you
heard us coming.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


the complexity behind the thoughts! Nice work! ~ Gee.

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Very good, I love the way this pulls you along. Regards Roscoe...

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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