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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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