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Collected Poetry
(rd king dot net)poetry and digital art
Diesel Eddy
Book three of impromptu trilogy.
Rain
Their offers propelled us like incendiary tools to uncover that which remained prized and unguarded. Their monument, we thought, could anticipate our desires as an incidental music waiting to occur. Even when reclined our hunger was trained in smartly disposed board rooms to appear content. It was a form of courtesy that must accompany us. So, above his bed a desert landscape drifted—his only digression— the Wah Wahs rising up in their perfect brown suit from a treeless country. Some thickening clouds already darkened the evening light at his approach. Then rain fell and danced like urchins at his shiny, privileged feet. back | ToC | next
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