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Three Poems by Amber Kennedy

Periscopal   There was a world where they liked to play on giant china plates, like vinyl on the whirl, where harmonies were eight billion tones deep and instrumentals were the calls of birds to prayer, to morning, to light.   There was a world where euro notes flapped in the trees, in the breeze dropping pounds, berries and dollars down to un-starved earth, where they didn’t care for harvests for they’d already reached the top, where they toasted time over Tibet, their prize un-gambled, un-bet   There was a world where the trees sang in pheromones, semitones, atoned for the lumberjacks slumbering over the hills, where time is mapped in rings which talk to the future   There was a world where the spiral stair looped round in a figure of eight, though none could count to seven and none believed in heaven, where everything was always simmering, ready to metamorphose, unfold like meta-prose   There was a

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