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John One

John One

light-flame burning burning

where is your mother?

who is your father?

can you stretch our generations?

(look softly at yourself)

(burn quietly little wick)

make love your fuse and wait again

—to burn like the sun inside—

homely wick, wax and flame

the room, dark, dim

waits to see the light of men

wait, with me, for him.

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