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Poetry by Oguns Peter ♥ Art by William Shenewolf
more than ever
i wish the smell of water
would obey the language of cartography?
for night comes and ragged doors
open to a road where trees burn
from the top leaving their roots
to grow
into a body
dreaming and drowning
each time
the skin of the sky
spread faded faces
STREET BLUES III
perhaps the sun never told you
of the secret life
of a dog dying many times
whenever it coughs the word
love
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