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by Cameron Morse


Past light strikes my new

born eye. Always

a new day strikes light

anew light unknown.


I am happy with the way

the wind moves single

stalks of grass, still shaky

from my push-ups. Omi


sleeping tent-flapped

on my chest, her head air

borne with my breath.

Reach deeper breath dear


blood pump and I will do

my push-ups, reach far

farther. How far the sky

now are the clouds close?


Is the sky closed? I am open.

Open myself my blood

blossom would include you

if you want to come along.