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| Union |
| in the deep back fields of twilight fortune, she walks briskly through the poppies, blind to the daisies that wave and wave, longing to be strung around her nomadic neck violet reflections paint her eyes in storms that came and left and those black whispers, those little blame-flame dances that swirl endlessly around pure ears rust wild hair twists in flame tangles lava coils yearn union with daisy chains ~shalome � 2004 |