poetry critical

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Fire in a tropical desert.
The smoke plumes for 500 miles.
Morning like a raw throat over a clear still lake.
Captured in the blinking eye of an escaping lizard.
squatting beside a riot.
Dateless and flailing in the breeze.
Edging closer to a hurricane and shouting at the eye.

26 Jun 07

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two thumbs way up

a little turned off by all the periods, but the diction and imagry are exquisite
 — thefatwon

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