The Murky Blot(s)!

(1) Ripe fruit to taste, Nectar of milkweed, In the first hush of morning, She translates to me,The strangest dream We were the wisps of smoke, coming out of old man’s pipe, Where all the worlds were forming (2) Wild tresses tumbling down, tangled river to a troubled sea, I am not myself, my dear! […]

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