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--- W I L L I A M   M .  G O T T L I E B

	sphenogram to spin

Spiderweb those sphery, spiking eyes, bestialize the celestial, predatory reader, breasts like threats, feline loins wet, raptor wings the sphygmus of the possessed sky, a correct answer required: What am I? – phoneme only, ink- lings, yet the deadly Sphinx. My monster, my mother, my lover, are these letters a spill of your humor, black bile, the Oedipal blood of uncovering, still- quivering eyes, or the blinding writer’s?

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