in the shape of an unharmed almond, of a yellow sponge
of a magnet dissolved in a bestairy, in the obscure meanderings of a dagger,
in the indolent eye of theft,
tongue of exile swarms against the wind.

you angle
you wheel
you chord of mirrors
you fortunteller and you transvestite are in labor.

-author unknown
(I wish I knew)

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