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  • Thomas Kam

from far away

i was perched on an arch of air

floating in

lakes of cloud shadow


the stitch scarred skin of


mottled with shrub

studded with stone


just beneath the surface

is some truth

that can only be touched

from far away


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dawn redwood at sunset

blackened, wizened, deep-based thing the late light scratches scarlet grooves in to the trunk and there are ancient reservoirs of fingernails and secret human stories and the wind is a blind carpente


after the rains came, & there was no me and you your face became a perfect guess which once I only knew, & other skin became a haunting thing, & every dream an echo in the hollow light of what it migh

unboxing mythologies

i am a strange shape a coalescence of water and word at the crossroads of chance and history my heart is ten thousand years old and my skin is new paper to wrap old thoughts in now i unparcel them the


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