Strange Attractor

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Sea-scent
rumble, trickle
yesterday, invisible.

I write in white,
simple,

one word

trips another.

I return,
connotation, exploration
pattern broken?

And a song was sung at the gate,

notes expand
as a third flicks into view
from behind a black pillar,

hawkmoth,
robed in the tilt,
split of spectrum,

fade.

 

Published by Jonathan Chant

Writer

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