we will come bubbling up the depths
to embrace halfway
from the belts of a run down sun
where you are my cavern
there will be a ribbon
of brushed-by faces
melting on a bronze floor
and a high-set star that howls
from the wound of its beginning
salted in dayless matter
by the lights that never cease
rib's brain of echoes
orb of the last dawn
drowning gear in tongues
to come what's next with feathers
locked in kaleidoscopic combat
oh silk spun dyad
catching milk from the cloud's dark yield.
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