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--- L E O N A R D   G O N T A R E K

Dusk acetylenes the branches.

What comes after.

Flare-up of red violets, wind picking up.

Rattled pages, feed in pie tins.

Floor of hell mulched, cool moss, God's crushed cigarettes.

Pure blue paintings in motel rooms.

Execution headlines line litter pans.

Kiss my ring. Kiss the hand in shadow of outstanding shadows.

Kiss my back. Use your tongue.

The river is a woman, your woman.

Dogs bark in trucks, flies drop like rasinets.

Work the well, pump, hard in starlight.

They should mind the world's business.

Shot. Like a dropped dictionary. This is my blood.

Between twilight. Slopes covered with lizard skin.

Blue dress. Undergarments. Flea-market jewelry.

Stripped path to pond. Dark fire.

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