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  • Grant Handgis

Raymond Keen ~ Poet


Poem “He Is The King of Nothing”

He is the King

Of nothing.

Yet his tears run

Blood red

Down, down eternally

Blanching skin.

The colors of his cloak

Are many rainbows,

Where do his colors come from?

When we are life,

We are blood red, root green.

His ruby-red heart beats in us.

Our blood sings

His gold-vermilion fire.

Through these sapphire-blue veins

Flows sanguis novus.

Where do our colors come from

In this biology of lies?

Copyright (1969-2012)


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