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Poetry

He hated him for it

He hated him for it

 

he hated him for it

hate was apt for the jerking slide

and the jettisoned emotion

but he shrivelled in his hate

and the clothes that he wore

now began to wear him

the circling crows began to

abhor him

he perspired an oily brine

and carefully

the breeze began to break him

it lifted him above the land

until he was narrow in the distance

like a song that had gone wrong

and shaken off persistence

but in him cried the distance still

so he stretched out

that he could hang men

a hook

and made cold relation

lynched fish

and reattached himself to something

it also was not a smooth operation and

he fell

in leafy spirals

of ever-increasing complexity

as suddenly as a death

and as silently as a cloud

and still

he hated him for it

hate was apt for the jerking slide

and the jettisoned emotion

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