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τό καλόν, τό ἀληθές, τό ἀγαθόν (Transedentals)
The woman wears her skin
like a bathrobe.
She stands in the middle
of a golden field,
weeping fresh water.
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Chat GPT Poem
This poem is not Chat GPT
I promise to convince you that
and I will attempt to convey
the human
sitting and picking the words
from cobweb corners where
computers can't find them.
there is a beating heart here -
The Storm's Eye
The sky
blows in more snow,
a breath
from frozen elsewhere.
There is a storm
raging
inside the silent rage
of the storm,
inside God’s eye,
unopened.
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