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~ moments you invent and dread - when you think you want a long stretched and clear landscape of trees and rocks - and a sense of you as singular and empty. some wind blows against you, you, in this grayness feel thin, alive, (fear disappears. here again - anticipations, the psycho logical where they look for you (and what appears to steal you away, is you, the thing itself ~ no system for chaos. they take your life away with pleasure ~ abandon the scraps, the words. I haven't checked my plant for days, the changing mutability of the rock pile (blasted chunks. early, I saw the bird crack the seed, the ingenious bird. rose bush scrapes the window. I've come to love the wind (and in the blurred eye catch
the funeral the bearers wait for in
laughter
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