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Love is like the mountain sea Shimmering tween twin rivulets of erosion Lapping upon the cliffs, speaking a voice into the mist That the mist has never heard But remembers, as the river droplet recalls the mountain spring Realizing that this sound is a song of ancient terror A voice that speaks from deep wells of memory When the mist drifted over the sleeping depths And shuddered at the immensity suggested by such A little thing: a wave, or a flushering from some unknown god. Love is like the scream of the black vulture at midday As the field hands look up and curse, he looks down and ponders The end of all things, or the beginning of new things Gut coils and brain pudding which this race so loved So repudiates. One day they are free to love And the next they serve only to feed those I love. In between they curse the birds, they curse their depressing shadow. Love is like the sun at midnight, the light is always elsewhere Prattling through daisy fields with the wind Whispering to the brook, while she giggles at his caress Upon her tremulous curves and eddies. Then something moves, not in the manner I would walk to a chapel Or bend down and retrieve a pen from the muck, More like the snow globe of my life, has suddenly been shaken And the dust that collected on my vision Only reflects the little bits of white plastic more brilliantly. Love is like running alone through the desert in the dark Groping through the embrace of cacti, smothering the cretaceous lips Of scorpions with kisses; blaming the darkness for the pain, Then one day the sun rises In its light the vulture screams And the mist recedes to the sky Beside me another has bidden run faster run until you fly for I am here and I love you and that is all you need to know.

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