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Like silt of the great river
time decants into the fluid clepsydra
Like dust in miles tall air
time decants into the pit of the abyssal valley’s dead  depth
the inverted crater spills future dust
like a shower of stars bellow horizons…

There are, mind you worlds
with stars bellow the waters above…
all fluid irresistibly immiscible,
incarcerated inside fluid shells, incongruent inside-outs…

dry convergence. 

Time, the last spec of dust,
poisonous molecule of sludge decanted in the chalice

from which The Gods drink not.






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