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unlike the landscape hereabouts yet only up the road

up the road where all comes beyond reality to help with reality
is all a pattern, that keeps us safely,        moves us

onward.
my quiet friends felt shaky

weary while getting back to

somethings
sometimes
a while in a box
will do nicely…
listen, repeat the
random insects.

stitch another way.
spread out as cotton threads

knotted

&

i will not mention the word
liking rags
i move on
with differing
music

the trial by glass
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