with letters of my regret,
high triangular clouds
sculpted from pain of abandonment,
scooped valleys to libidinal mountains
glistening with aftermath of words
bright links of leaves to breeze
under the shocked veins
of the sky in entrapped transit,
as the hands that inscripted realms
in their tracked and fertile orbits
push trash cans together
in suggestive shapes
hot banished priest of Onan
dumping wine
for the water of the apes.
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