Nil Quantum Vagis Latus

This is a treat of tastes.

In that these evergreen shoots,

These gross fruits of the finger,

That have been visited, fidgited and shuffled,

That have been throbbed over multi-plus times.

Finally, are compacted and intact.

They are all over and are out.

And for which or what, I have suffered.

And am become Opus of their tricks,

The devoured winery fool.

As it is, with the fabled, blind Coopers’ triumph.

I now open an oval shell to the World.

I trickle down within my unfortunate fumbles,

Completing one tank at a time.

Christopher Thompson

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