Newsletter
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Journal bits this past week...
- no amount of social acupuncture / would ease the burden I carried /in a crinkle brown bag / with the sweet stench of rotting fruit
- what have I to want but a portion of real estate 12x13 to call mine / plant my sovereign flag in its heart
- your festive laugh disordered my thoughts / I skipped something critical on vinyl
- silence poured out of a pause
- some days I am the father of righteous indignation / searching for my child / lost among conformists.
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