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2005/11/11

when

when
the days
nights

when none are here

what moon is this ? is it the flow of bright?


or nays a sense of english grammars
their garbled crabbed days
beauty of a woman
travels she home

across scent of time


space and its gathers
some garden that touches its spoiled pasture a t the type writer the echo of Siren the mast


seen ebb forever the right
arm swaying when the dancer lifts the coffin
the column
kenosis of air shape and desire the sparrow

inside of every station your smile