Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.

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Poems -

The bottle refills
itself at your daily
café, watering hole, supper
cave - during your
restless sleep - like
rivers of ink entering
the pen and conduits of
saliva for the ever-
lolling tongue.
is a murderess.

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2021 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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