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grubby grists of euphuistic prolixity

Tuesday, 22 June 2010

Woodland Suicide

Overnight the trees inverted, fled this suppurating earth
and now their sallow tuber'd fingers scratch the sky
The sulphur sun stands helpless as they shrivel soon to fall
while they rend the air with one last keening cry
Posted by Philip Damian-Grint at 21:23
 
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