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i’m in two places at once, and i’m not leaving or jumping the train and exiting before the fees; i walked the 4 miles back without ceremony to a place i’ll never call home. spectrum lines slowly blinder each year to the things that went on without you, slightly out of reach, corner of your eye, corner of your mind filed away in its appropriate place on the shelf, but this is no longer your world the carpets have since been lifted (tacks and glue atop weathered wood) and trains no longer circumnavigate the downstairs i find you on the grass or on the bed, some place recognizable only by the the smell of pipe tobacco and sunlight on hair (‘clean well lighted place’) i’ve always wondered: were you lying when you told me (the unintentional curse) they put a gun to your head? already, i know (occhi e contorno occhi) i will pick up where you left off.

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a collection of collage work and poems that explores the space between dreams and reality.

untitled  

a collection of collage work and poems that explores the space between dreams and reality.

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