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the Sekhu (or body)
the old Writer unpacked the machine
formulated a sIlent
aLive
the fulfilLment of his wish
a wInter tornado
rip the universe apArt
let it coMe down
see the Snow
rEach out
the Winter crystals closer
incredibly A scratch
chittering cRy
slides the Door open and blackness pours in
what can Be done with words
mustached scimitars hUnt tigers
ivoRy balls with
sides and the tiRed fuchsia
shOps selling english
fortnUm tea apes clinging always
in tanGier
sHadows are falling
pleaSe it is time
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