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the animal in fiction
writes on the wall
of the fire-tinged street
lamp the words, ‘the gods
haven’t left us, we’ve
only forgotten to touch
them.’ He runs away, being
half housecat and half mountain
goat, he runs up the hills
and with paws birthing green,
hooves spreading hues, he licks
the hand of lightening, the
lover of clouds, tsunamis
and epic verse.

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