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place in teller-posted

Obliterature

Monday, 14 June 2010

my map,
unraveled.

in its middle
was she there,
maiden of the globes.

her rock, sounding out
on the ice,
did unlock this city,

slowly,
like a breath.

caught in a cherub’s
compass gust,

blows me hither,
blows me thither.
Posted by tomas at 10:10

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tomas
london
written on reams of teller paper, snatched from without the stops and gaps of dead time and the bundles of daily work.
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