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Between the thunder and lightning/everything counts in lovely intervals/an entering into/and a pulling out/by the springboards of wordless echolalia/until the sky cracks open/and something new beyond us/begins to storm
I wrote to you in broad bold letters.
I wrote it on a tree.

You know the one, remember
—it called to us from the middle of the garden.

Sassafras: our secret token.

Winter's stillbirth is soon upon us,
and our placement in the sun in peril.

But I have whispered it all to stones
now ****** into the sea.

Remember the tree, and pray I live long enough to dream in its hollow.
Inspired by the disappearance of the Roanoke Colony in 1580's America.
~
--third transmission--

time to be
less than alive
tube in, tube out

for madmen only
in struggles for utopia

semi-super friends
marching the hate machines
into the sun

the dehydrated sun

smashed into splinters of dead light

keep out of sight
keep behind the light
or it will hunt you down

make you one of
the thin pixelated crowd
washing their sins with stardust

the little hand is overhead...

--losing transmission--
~
Today feels
Different
And yet
At some point
It will feel
Like
Yesterday
Moving on.
I did not like
What I saw in this
Mirror
So I changed
Mirrors
Not all mirrors reflect truth
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