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A-gain
She gave
me one
hard
look,
1000-kisses-
deep,
lips burning
imprinted
by murmuring,
close-knit
the knot
as xin-
jie,
all a-
flame
like licking
wound
or a broken
heart or
secrets
in loveless
season,
my poem
which
still drips
black
blood
as in music,
(verb over-
takes the
noun and
tense change):
not the final
thing
but her
own
way of
remembering,
and I trans-
late that
(to dream
deep)--
She puts
a smile
on all
she puts
her hand
to, like
now
my pen
she kisses
again.
:1/26/05
[art: by picasso]
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