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Little Night Poem

I don’t care what the foam sea squalls say: The mountains are made of mint. Green I spend gliding upon the emotion- Less ramp besieged by the creepy Count de Bourgie Of my psyche. The orphaned Queen of my heart will jump Straight down into her moat and drown If the adventurer of my soul …

Beginning a New Poem (In Beta 1.1)

Dear Father, I love you, what can I say? These eyes I have can see only little Sweet Gum covered hills, But the eye of my soul can see through a million endless Nights kept alive by the fire of your hearth. The heart of the mountain that peeks through the clouds Of our misty …

Poetic Fragment (Version 1.3)

Sometimes you dream so hard The clocks of your mind begin To melt inside a Dali painting, And the continents of your heart collide, Pushing up mountains on which the hunter inside You searches for the sacred white deer. White mountains, white snow, white Buffalo, white sorrow; The land’s blood is white, and the white …