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Nights in Rado

Nights in ‘Rado, my soul requires

To siphon essence, import, and aim

From these stubborn feels that refrain.


It is at first the kiss of cold,

The cordillera-like chill,

That welcomes me to the still.


These stars, they shimmer and sigh,

Susurrus from a timeless plane—

Concealing truth; clarity inane.


This lunar attraction, it roughly dispatches

My brain, the questions that fill,

Answers barren like land, for me to till


So on I dig, out, over, and round,

Alas but ogling this opaque ‘verse…

Wink from the moon! How curt a curse.

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