Poem : The Seed that Falls

engage the very heart of
that insensate harpy :

perched upon the edge
of your insensate brain,

parched with thirst for
scrivenings condensing

in the folds of these the
pages of your mind

the crabbed unfolding
ravings of your muse :

for she
is your beginning.

video image created with @NightcafeStudio (https://creator.nightcafe.studio/creation/eUet0PTsaGwtt3DpJSBo)

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