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The Compression Effect
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by Adam Pomajzl
blue night shifting
to the flicker of
attic light,
gritting teeth
in small rooms
like grindstone rotation.
detached from
scratchy hatches of
a pen stroke,
locked with
stainless eyes
of a steel expression,
bleeding knuckles
to the bone,
vocal cords
strain with
stressed inflection,
suggestion of
a pounding rain,
in back from a breeze
and whittled down
to tiny pieces
of sweet intrigue.
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Adam Pomajzl
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