From undead dusk,
Mad at my bittersweet heat
Brother bit down hard,
And blew his nose beside me,
He sings alone,
his rain song,
Roaring sticky squeaks,
and swallows the black and orange as it comes.
Stones as stars,
And spinach as sculptors.
Hair blowing and slapping,
And when it comes, the breathing creature,
From fire in my soil,
He is broiled in the flame.
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