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Guest Writer

by Troy Eggleston

o find there is no love in comparison
only a wavering syncopation
of past and present
allowing thought to crush the dissolving
into even smaller bits of fragment
to find you have sculpted a wall
of cherishment
and loathing
offering little room to move about
constantly being threatened
by that which you have learned to ignore
and pleasure just the same
each time the lateral climbs higher
the crash becomes louder
is it possible not to compare
a flower to a sunset
a thief to a beggar
or any combination of one
each and every thing
born of new identity
is it possible?
i think it is.

E-mail Troy at leonchester@cosmo.com, and see his previous efforts in our archives.

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