Mixed Light
J
James McLain
0
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When with hers light mixed made from his.
Houses made of glass, made with broken hands.
Somewhere it's heard called forth hence it is inward.
Beyond common reach of modern worldly ways.
Looking out therein from his, her limbs one from hangs.
Hers is golden open spread, above, below around, between.
Strange by they whom percieved not his ways.
And from those walls fashioned beneeth bright green leaves,
Thick ropes of vines sprout up from around it.
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