the clathrate gun again
a story i scrolled past
a thickening in the mist
where some shape ran
red bowl
& the crumbs of a morning
dense silence condoning
venomous quarrel
to the shapes i speak
with weapons in their hands
fray of gossamer machines
very real flak
"Troy owes to Homer what whist owes to Hoyle" --Byron
"A Poetry that doesn't hide behind Craft but is shaken by Turbulence."
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