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Amy Ihrke
Untitled
Dusting off the afterglow
Through vines of furrowed faith.
Against leaps and bounds of tarried states.
Where our tiny paradise lays
And we burn the morning words,
Drink,
Smoke,
Coffee
And other such synthetic desires.
All along sundered by varied loyalties.
Pounding our vestigial conception onto stone-deaf ears.
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