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J. A. DeGar


An urn pours forth,

Rain rendering waters like sand on sea

Of memories and merriment

Trickling a heartful tune

Like Harpies on an awakening.

It gives of itself—

Expecting no one to hear,

Exulting the listener.


An endless excursion

The people I pass know not where these ship’s sails voyage

Inbound, crucifixes shine through neon-nighted days

Black cats and mystery give the sound

Going and coming and going again

Splashing against echoed sands and beach blue clouds outbounding in

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