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The Archer
The sudden thuck of landing The arrow made in the mark Of the center lifted and Loosened his skin. And so he Stood, hearing it like many Thrusting breaths driven to ground. He abandoned the long light Flight of arrows and the slow Parabolas bows dream of For the swifter song beyond Flesh. Song of moments. The earth Turned its molten balance. He stood hearing it again: The precise shudder the arrow Sought and returned to, flaming.