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I
A sparklerman zig-zagged across the skies, re-arranging stars in its path. How bright his stick-like and jaggy limbs twinkle, I noticed; even noticing my surprise. No longer 'simply sitting', I was.
'It is time' I mumbled. The room was melting, si
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when the sun goes down alone
vice is forgotten in the night wind
your lover's voice
on the phone
held fast in the balance
of gravity and momentum
overcoming inanimate objects
and the unknown
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1. The sparrows' heads revolve slowly when you press the red button, but the boxing glove attachments don't work.2. A weird weaving of voices, unmusical harmony. One phrase punctures the texture: “The empty slot.”3. Poems are processed into more useful verbal…
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If you stop, you starve//
and they just offer what you do/
to others, starved already,/
and schooled, as you, in servitude.
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the beeps, rhythmic,
tell us that you're still with us
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