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Up-Wellsprings Poetry From The Coldest; Deserts Hearts
'Up-wellsprings poetry from the coldest; deserts hearts'.
Where; blooms the most exotic flowers of all…
'They're dunes, they're zephyrs, and they're petals caul,
Wrap-around each sunset—sunrise subverts'.
'Yet, they're as real as any pollen-laden bee.
In the art of subtlety, such, interactions…
Deceiving as the moon, undercurrents the sea:
But, these ruses are finite, attractions'.
'They call for intricacy, a little mystery!
And of course they all question what if, anything'.
'Poems are about: Do, they have integrity
Who'll balm just one soul, Lord Where to begin?
Each word, a sphere orbiting—another!
Let's not be over analytical… my lover'.
poem
by
Mark Heathcote
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