ant5

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the hen

jumps up for

the tip of the grain

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your pillows

creatures in the bed

that can’t be woken

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you overhear

a mirror

spell

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of course

we’re ruled by

liars and actors

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still all summer

prayer flags

catch a breeze

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the crickets know

desire requires

distance

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inside you

a tiny world

eating its way out

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in front of

the stars the clouds

do what they can

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when you reread

it the last twenty

pages are gone

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