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Mar 2020
Like a sand painting.
Perfection, beauty, my own finger,
Disintegrates I am ash.
Flush me into the wind,
Floating we go together
Over the tops of paper
It can’t tell what we have lost.
Together we have died.
Together we die again,
Over and over…
Rkeevoer 3/10/20
had to change it ...well you know!
robyn el coyote-buddha
Written by
robyn el coyote-buddha  Portlandia, now.
(Portlandia, now.)   
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