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By Tatiana Pahlen
What
makes us, mindless sapiens,
To restate
our own mistakes;
Chronic pangs
of a livid failure,
Accustomed
to the tortuous edge?
Foul vanity,
or utter joyance
Being burned
anew at the stake?
As Phoenix
crawls with reptilians,
Seared feathers
arouse from dust;
Who is furtive,
lives in the glitter
And learns
from the senility past.
November
10, 1999
Copyright ©
2000 Tatianyc. All Rights Reserved.
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