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Tree of Life
I existed in the shadow of history, when the stars were cold and learning to breathe. I existed in a scattering of plans, a flickering behind a nebula. I remember, within the slants and bends of my branches, the scattering of photons, the accretion of matter, and the moulding of planets. I remember something of…
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Blue
Windmill-shoulder precipicesspinning gannet eggs on tangledwildgrass snares, harbour bells booming and anchorsbreaking spray beneath the bellows of bull-shark horns Pounding sails, roaring blades slitting skies driving cogsexoskeletons crushed by bitter beaks, stinging seawaterstoking wounds in lips and scaleson tongues blander than clouds, edged knife-like like bloodand brine which wind the windings of the tongue the same way, salt in cuts smarting, stonefish, urchins, iodine easing pain through cracks inskin and seagulls sliding, the twang of wires slipping through thethrumming feathers of birds bumping against the empty skinstretched across my window, a brief pretence of blue.
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This Century
How does it feel? She wonders. The thought plods across her mind like a dark beast, churning up tracks in the mud of her mind. Her eyes linger on the faint lights of the town down amongst the knolls, but everything smells like farmland where she is—the goodly scent of earthy wheat, the less friendly odours.…
