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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Draft

 



I sniff about my self, a stray dog,
a mad dog; starving.
A cornucopian vortex, starving.
A blind bitch frightened
by the Things it hits with its nose
searching for satisfaction.

   Alstroemerian irises
                  once contained answers
   her pupils whispered
the sutra of her skin culling my own.

The well is gone.
relief a
   vicious
   apparition

Dream of distance,
the horizon
   never focused.

      -Stephen Moore