Literally Literary
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Literally Literary


Dorothe: (Creative Commons)

Crashing, running, sliding, flowing,
a molten flux of lava glowing.
Rippling like the river born,
of gentle muse, of spirits torn.

A saddened eye, desire fled,
a wound from where our passion bled.
Is our sanctuary of no return?
Does hope remain to brightly burn?




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Moshe Forman

Moshe Forman

When I’m not a poet, novelist, or writer of short stories, I’m a writer of creative non-fiction exploring Self, Food, Society and History.

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