Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.

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Poems -

Iced Coffee
A preternatural caul pulses
spongy and edible as
injera as
sensations like
visions seep through its
pores - collecting in
hollows of my
ears and eyes and
nostrils - while
remaining perceptions like
balance wobble numb in
stasis as frigid as
sense of depth in
a dream of falling.

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2023 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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