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Dark Scrawling

Dark Scrawling


Each day, earlier and earlier,

the dark of night sets in


The air moves,

pushed by the sun, they say,

but this breeze comes from a

much darker place


As I wander down this road

that’s leading to somewhere

The world has no warmth for me


The wind whips and flips

and drills down to the bone


And there, where the roads crossed,

I saw you standing, spinning

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Taken on January 30, 2008