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you told me you loved it when the trees changed their minds and covered the ground with a million veined post-it notes ...
sun after rain a fox dares me to cross her path
We have velvet theories about boys becoming men, the mysteries of plumbing ...
I am a chick You don’t call it lit But I read it. I am the protagonist The girl who loses part of herself ...
grey dawn thin old moon alone and radiant
little girl sweeps herself across the park a pretty burn of yellow cloth ...
Leonardo da Vinci wrote a list of things he wanted to know: the cause of tickling the tongue of the woodpecker ...
The wind rhymes with the sound of their pants
brushing against their legs. The music must shift
to a higher register, whenever the diesel trains roar. ...
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