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I saw a bride splendid in white garmentsI saw a woman with one hundred children The children plump and firm within her arms,But some fell down or strangers took and ate them
Now we're up on the edge
and over, on the mountain
with mountains beyond. Behind us,
in the dark
of the valley, villages are embers
His name is called and there's a pause
just long enough to halt a war
tame timber wolves and trim their claws
hide diamonds in a secret drawer
I am the word juggler.I juggle the wordslike swords.I slice sensewith poetic license.
He's the Keepy-Uppy Kid.
There is a place (believe me,
she said) where if, if
you go beyond
the street lights, to the lane's end,
Peter the orange parrothad a very tiny beak,unlike the other parrotshe was never heard to speak.But they were never nasty to him,Peter the non-talking parrot
Eyes as wide as continents brim wih the water between.
Seeks a different future. Looks back on what has been.
Mouth seeks another language. Shapes a different air.
...not white like the snow
more moon-panther or silvery cloud-cat
with her ripple-patterns melting as (oh,
but she's beautiful) you stare
This is the kingdom of the Water Bear.
To enter here, you have to shrink
and slow down, down. A day
is one tick of the clock, one blink