Dune Secrets

How much the itch scratches,/from disenchanted teeth,/cups of milk put past,/a veteran scar on the lip./Shake off this dreary sloth,/it keeps you from what’s free,/we’re not in this life just for our scratches./Had there been candied dreams/buried deep in the floorboards/we’d find them in disguise;/so grey, elusive, and unwanted./Waiting in the cabin,/an idea of a terrific Autumn,/salt growls in each vein,/ pillaged by a silent drill./As we stick out our arms/like pitchforks plunged in sacks/at least, we’re blessed with hands,  immaculate./AA truce between them beckons/I raise the whistle to your lips:/end this truce  in reverence./An incandescent caper,/caught in the blaze of headlights,/oblique re sinister news reports/rocket past us faster/ slow sleight of tranquilizers shift/in the pocket of my shirt

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