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“The Purest Spiritual Weather”

Poetry Issue Nine by Nikolaus Euwer

The milk moment, the churning need- bubble echoes empty into “them.” The words that circle, your bird’s eye view is weak and needing. Only what you catch will live another day; so it’s spoken. The words you hear are reminders, a memory stream bright and beaming. What you say to yourself, how you picture what is thought and felt; all the word storms that plague and infect your life, all the word waves that wash over and renew. You never know what they think, you wish you could. Their smiles …

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