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Dickinson, Reincarnating

It is all too much
This parallel
I, here, Fear
Too close
the pawns are
To deny it
Laurie, my Lavinia
Blessed Rossy, I nuance, Higginson
Lora my absent but ever-present Mother
Carlo to Bronte, my Chaucer is
I equally, Hypergraphic

Now at 53
I beg Still-Lost
not take me
Amherst and I
We both blew beyond
( Like zephyrs, really)
Epilepsy, Insanity
Despite major insecurities
I fail to enrobe in white piqué
( I won’t do that~ I’m less Pure
Feisty in my Frailty)

How dare You
This time
Master Cruel
Ominously
Threaten to prepare the Chariot
In each Incarnation
We MUST advance, supposedly
I beg you, Plaintively
Here in November
(Intense, too much like She)
My Heart subtle,
seems to be Weakening
And I’ve too much, yet
To embrace with Succulence
Strengthen, fortify
(It’s the Lace of Life
Now, I want to Live)
Do NOT take me
All too Hastily
As you did Emily
at 56

C2013 GC Cameron
With Affection to Mathematician Rossy

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