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the land i am from,
how i wish to preserve it in such a matter that
i could keep the dehydrated oceans from
enclosing my crisp pigmented limbs.
the light cannot be reflected from wings in the dark.
hang up your coat by the door
, you say.
pin up the membranes of your past under the glass.
radiate upon me as hues pump through my vessels, old and new.
as i seek for the land i am from, a land with you.
from things i found in my room that have to do with you
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