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when your muse has left the building

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maybe it’s a good thing your muse has taken temporary leave because at least she’s not pecking away at you like an itch you can’t scratch

A pallor, a darkening flush

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My whiskey drunk, I twist around to catch the white blur of the great horned owl as it swoops from telephone pole to fence post, ears alert, ready to undermine the idea of calm and quiet I’d let settle over me as I drained my glass.

Airplanes and Flying Stones

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"Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart."--Robert Frost"… The deeper you go, the higher you flyThe higher you fly, the deeper you go"--The Beatlesfor Danielle LynnWe learn to navigate or we stumble around until some ordinary light hits us.…