ant5

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even the goats

are tired

of the blackberries

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folded up scrap

of paper could be

anything

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a squirt

of blackberry

on your ankle

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it’s the same if you

don’t know the name

of the moon

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what others see

when the sun shines

through you

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3am

when vines

grow

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a tear where

your life is folded

like paper

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the waxing moon

gives the clouds

a silver edge

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August rain

a whirlwind

of flies on the porch

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