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yeperenye notes

last night, by the falling waistcoat
                 of a half-caste desert moon
discreetly, deliberately
                 i heel away from somnolent flutes
water-coloured caterpillars and testaments of olde
into a floral jar of untitled clay-pans and annotated spinifex
                 inhaling burgundy stained pages of handwritten riverbeds
silently, incessantly
                  quilling louvered hours of jaundiced memories
by the rising ceremonial seas of ante merediem
                  echoing curlews ribbon my desiccated tongue
mirroring speech
                   if only occasionally
quite lucidly, most insanely
                   i delight in the sweet palm of darkness

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  • Yvette Holt reads 'yeperenye notes'