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we rhythm

To a choral anteroom it nudges
from behind
from above the binds of my flint prose
it comes
strumming sun
fingers on fluid skin
furling amber honey red jouled through me
I'm down
Your algorithm
my still pale bone
beckoning will
cindering sandlewood curling
weaving your prophesies up to here
it summons me to
the violet coil of polished oriel
Oh my dear I'm lost in you
In the silk steel canon of we becoming
I dwell
in smooth days where
debussy paints staccatoed birds in fresh rainbow feathers
coltrane thunder
flattens the fifth in blue jazz nights
pulsing in this hum

14 Feb 07

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nice touch of coltrane inspiration here - lovely jazz art and abstraction into expressions of love

very nice
 — Mongrol

nice poem.
 — varun