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Ben River

I am the ink
Flowing on concrete blisters
Reflecting light back up the chimney

On riverbed dreams and silhouette fog
Breathing in colours in a pouring tooth

Sharp sting of the dark
The branch of the light hanging on all sides
The alien barcode, music hanging in the air

Joining the dots in threes
The razors edge making love to the circle

Hairs standing on end
Piercing rubik drafting the moon

A puzzle piece on the edge of time
Sawing the dust forming emblems in the sun
And the sea on my arm and the code on my fingers
Drifts on pillow talk fit for all things

Translated by the wind, transcribed by dirt
Pulled piece by piece from within