Metaphysical poetry calls
for conceit:
A harbinger of pleasurable
surprises.
Veiled philosophy, {implicit erotica},
(imaginary)
naked bodies: Blood transmission
anticipating joy.
In the clots
of blood
is it perhaps
just the illusion that attracts
or matters?
For whom the flea jumps & sucks blood?
For whom she killed the flea?
I heard reverberations whispered by
a flea apparition, a sort of a minute ghost.
I saw people awakened by blood stains.
I saw ashes
of a blood moon scattering in the wind.
Still
I saw a flea fossil in my dream.
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