The ghost in the blizzard is in the white of my eyes
mercury runs through veins of distant planets
how the maelstrom exchanges tangents with your gaze
and we construe
always construe
you are no elf, walk as if you have legs
the horizon is your eyes closed
and the sea shares blues with the sky
like a marble' s light to your predictions.
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AN EXERCISE IN AUTOMATIC WRITING BY CARLOS E. MIJARES POYER, APRIL 18, 2015
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