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The Space That Contains More Space Than The Space It Contains

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Make me God, of flesh and mud

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Our Faces

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Our faces collide, but we remaininside a weather box, creatinga tide of our own. Oh, Mary, thencame the wreckage of a new morrow,and with it, unspeakable sorrow,as the crowd crushed us beneath its foamand wave--no one was saved, Mary--allhearts were returned to once and…