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Collected Poetry
(rd king dot net)poetry and digital art
Diesel Eddy
Book three of impromptu trilogy.
The Night
Where we hoped to find a receptive dance we heard a music drawing in, as if touched pensively; then, it diminished as a neon buzz above standing water. The night was assiduous and knew it soon became an obscured time. Its glance was seldom and filled with jokes or longing for abrupt tenderness—one that might not divulge an arrogant wish. We hummed a quiet tune; through the smoke of abandoned cigarettes we sat with our company of unshaven, uneven, uneventful men noting the continuum, and how much of it spread unabated, unattended, wide-buttocked and conspicuous. back | ToC | next
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