The scientist

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The scientist
has taken the Moon
out of the poet's mouth.
 
He's Danted up a death
more dream than any cavern hole
bat hung with writhing souls.
 
Goes Death, goes the throne
and the New Moon spins
like a pockmarked ulcer
on a slab of stainless steel.
 
But still
a bead of water sparkles
full star in the day
time and again
with each crashing wave.
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