A heart-stoppingly, heart-breakingly
the emphatic appearance of
    one in fifty thousands, perhaps.

In a magic-laden tavern where
Somehow all works for now: the
    nouveau-chic before the brutal
    high-profile and ornery sludge.

Then, somewhere else next year
 (and that poor, beautiful face . . .)

Yes, but the Ephemera hatch eternity
    by million billions

    and only ego am lost.

Michael Webb

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