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White Fires (A Foray into Surrealism from the Distant Past)

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  • White Fires (A Foray into Surrealism from the Distant Past)

    I dream the flaming baedeker of your mouth
    a Gordian knot
    Leading the wax fountains of my hands
    To a grotto
    Of supernal petals where

    The moon's clipped wing flutters
    Behind a curtain
    As a hand raised up mid-air about to speak

    Of why the stars are wearing codpieces tonight
    As we lay down
    On evening a divan in the shape of a feather

    The planets assemble around your hips
    Into a nosegay
    In which the frayed oar of my tongue
    Finds its nest

    Above the waves of your ears
    I watch the magnesium flags turning
    Into white wings climbing
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