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they warned me
of a poet’s son
of distances
of paths beyond
the memory of paths
fields beneath
a starry night –
lay my body down
to trace
the ways –
becoming this
every world to one

where whispers
bloom a purple hush
and always
takes my breath
words I cannot speak –
a verse ignites
ancient skies
to others past
blossomed lets pretend
where stars
no longer burning
score the night

. . .