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From a poem by Joseph Torra.
What goes away on its own. Can come back on its own. Hollowed out and quiet tense. I conjugate privacy and sadness. And a second away from. Being an angel and a microphone. I can do to throw the tow rope. The tall winter light solid crying. Solid singing in the modular. And now and again it does seem. Important to be saying, to have said,. Participating as no, temperate and right.
In the presence of strangers no excuses. No more frustration enough with the sympathy. Sacrilege in that case a diehard if you like. 29 million travelers passing notice. Enigmatic of spotted fighting, see also Crime. Vacation sites and activities as some of the flaws. To the life they made in. The morning and over the phone.
Limns the objects of attention anew. This work is paradoxically both stark and rich. In its few lines, it delivers us to a fullness of sight and sound.
YOU CANNOT LEAVE THE ROOM. The lamp shining on my filter paper. But it was dark in my head that night. Above alone but none more capable. The signal said we wish to form. An Earth beyond your dreams. The perfect alien of wish fulfillment. Lunar beds in planetary belts. No halts on the limiters. The plan was to crosscheck the children.
Is now available from Fewer and Further Press. Is printed in an edition of 125 copies, 30 of which are special editions. Special editions are printed on linen paper and are hand-sewn. If you would like to purchase a special edition, please see the Ground. Page International orders please see the Ground. Is now available from Fewer and Further Press. Page International orders please see the austerity measures.
Pressed tin and Corinthian columns. The pub, named for Norfolk who? Thomas Howard, the 4th duke,. Norfolk in Sussex, recusant? The Spanish barman says. Of the wine list I stare at. I remember instead the edict.
Lisa told Bea ghost story bookkeeper entered when I come home nothing books sold refund check bed frame sold to expecting couple saves us from high-end steak house.
The chime of an ice cream truck. This could be any world. This could be any nerve. Is the crucially useless circus. In which I rehearse the bruise.
The month of our birth. Logan Ryan Smith on February.
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Fewer and Further Press Hotels. 6 12 x 5 12. Last night I dreamed that I was you. The poem was finished. Not that I havent. Been trying to wake out of this. Dreamless flight becomes harder each. Morning quiet except for soft voices coming. From the radio another I have wearied. I slept while you wrote about sleeping. That was on Cooley, near the freight yard apt. B6 the sound of the trains coupling like thunder. Woke me 310 am and thought what. Present has entered my wanting?CONTENT
This web page fewfurpresshotels.blogspot.com states the following, "6 12 x 5 12." We saw that the webpage said " Last night I dreamed that I was you." It also said " Been trying to wake out of this. Dreamless flight becomes harder each. Morning quiet except for soft voices coming. From the radio another I have wearied. I slept while you wrote about sleeping. That was on Cooley, near the freight yard apt. B6 the sound of the trains coupling like thunder. Woke me 310 am and thought what. Present has entered my wanting?."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
A realism that looks steely really really. Heart pounding, bastion of concentration. The realm of mannerisms made modern mammals. Along came an imperceptible interval. Dealing directly with charismatic animals. No longer the cannibal teen.
For a day in the park.
Unkind to you, that light. You say, Sit, Ubu, sit, or. Hey, I like your weave. You can see from the. And that does what for you. Warmth all in the light. You stand body in profile. In the doorway stays empty.