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  • Like a plume of perplexities openly due
    It is not given that I should
    Stand tall in your grasses or beside those mutterings
    As fleeting as magic
    Stepping a thread on the smallest of ground
    I balance on your tongue
    Waiting to be spat out as words
    .....Oh tell me something sweet

    Give me your breath.
    I will treasure it as candy pops
    Box it.
    But see it; seek it as it stands before you
    Watch with delicate intent, watch it blue skies and shade
    by clouds born in silence that threaten to take it,
    This must not be.

    Give me your breath, your murmur
    Wrap me in your fibres, your thread.
    Let perplexities fade to dust
    Intent become action, thrust clear “for the avoidance of any doubt”
    Brush my call with fever, be it spoken,
    be it seen.
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