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On Worshiping the Griffin on the Old Painted Vase

Part feathered, part furied

Frozen in silvery confines and

Strip mined for your best pieces from

Wonderful, perfectly whole things

Skewed together.

Like talons were not enough.

Like fangs were not enough too.

Proud but crossed fated friend;

Too brutish for the birds and too fowl

For the beasts.

You could not settle for either sky nor plain,

So you tore into each; rampaging clawed stitches

Into this inadequate earth, hoping to fasten a

tent out of wonderful, perfectly whole things

When the slayer has his lance testify

Against your rejection,

A “get back” to keep you bound to

Pick one or the other, instead you are


I loved you because we are both abominations.

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