Category: Aging
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I 57
What is it about rows of corn stubs flipping past, electrical wires sagging in sync with the tracks, whistle beaming out to snow-flat fields, clumps of houses, trees so far away you think of desert, that pulls me back to dream-like chatter, long nights on empty roads? We meet again in this rhythmic void, away…
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Day 22
starry white droplets line tree branches, fragile, falling, constellations, signs, against March’s gray realm
