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and the droppings,

and the droppings, buckets poured, smell of ringings, washings, more, to these ears, unfollied in their search for you

plip
upon the screen,
the window, bare but dotted, sprayed,
lays, in hurried fashion, another
to be dried by sun,
though its mission, sentence,
rings true

thank you.

i have nothing but words
Her Breeze And The Boy

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