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■ The oak
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a man from a book one day said
you are writing cheap poetry, my friend! that happens when you try to say how much you love your babies soap balloons filled with her soul follow me in the bathroom she is a feather now the wind swings by and the crib sighs I dance with her a valse which I only know from butterflies a lily is watching me from the water the mirror is getting dizzy so I'll be short and tell you what promise I'll bloom a cotton flower with no shoes no smile no body to die november 2003
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