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in
her eye
perhaps
camoflauged and roiling
from the red heart
beating alone
at the center of this huge black universe
tiny sparks of light
alone thinking
that they must fight
and condemed by that thought
to that night
beyond
even war
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her
perfect disguise
won't let you by
a whole planet by
her side
she told me that she was indeed the guard of all that is large
that many people have sacrificed too much
for such huge words with only a few letters
dressed in the most superlative armor
placing herself beside the entrance to the womb
of the universe
the spontanious attention
of the body
becomes an irritating clamor
and the egg of perfect reflection
insists it does not matter
by doing its so perfect inverse
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and
almost in her hand
she asks you to notice that she is certain
the egg at her side is unbroken
yet pours forth a dark light
that parts a curtain
and awaits the unspoken
she already knows your so vital failings
and bids you enter anyways and with confidence
despite the fires surrounded by wailings
of a dying mind now comfortably void of all common sense
way way past whatever was planned
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she
tells you with powerful silence
that even time waits here
overcoming you without a trace of violence
past the horrible triumphs
of envy pride and fear
Ayn's Ivy might be a spontanious protection
engendered by the projection
of her big beautiful left toe
digging itself
(smiling if it could, probably)
into the earth itself without objection
and letting the heart of the egg itself grow clear and flow
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so
she lets language grow all over her music(s)
she sets married souls to magic clover
she plunders the mind gently
taking great care
reminding you that her left is your right, right there
and that it is consumate before it is even over
everything becomes the egg
because of what she really intends
the beauty which time must bend
blind intent to beg
naturally
so pefect now without form
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