….
about her, only knotted angles shooting off
into the darker places. These are not simple
secrets to be shared, bread broken between
sheets of discrete longing. The fact that light
finds in her something hard to touch reflects
my frozen arteries my numb fingers
my heart resting on basalt columns,
black and beating. A devil’s causeway ….
365/radical elements 
I’m not exactly sure what all this means, but it’s ominously beautiful.
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Basalt!
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