Letters to Susurrus
a chestful of letters sent into void.
Letter to Trenchbed
I can not wait to embrace you
Smother you in my loins
Miracles don’t exist in orgy
But they do here
They’ll dredge out the mudpit
Past the cold surface scenery
Into the slick oil tides underneath
Sonar implantation
For a more beautiful place
Crossing schematics
Designed by direction
The allure finally has the breath
A warring angel, with
Metallic presence
Gunsmoke will pass
You will find now
A place to sleep
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