Jake's Flea Market

it never comes out the way it went in

the closed eye of the blinded

the closed eye of the blinded
cyclops drowsy as a lotus eater   opens

a narrow slit across the eastern forehead
a crack of fire across the night black bone

wake up
here inside the monster’s skull   it dawns
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Jake de Peuter

~things to put in a poem, and things to take out of a poem~

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