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ending charts beyond the country watch planned in the legs the feet we lean so close to melodies clear this bark peeling back an engine after the pith closes off imagined roots raising when she lifts her fingers to the wall resting on charity an enclosed farm and a torso pulled with alder ups west of market sopping through mindfulness now stories stagger as the stone clouds overhead on autumn evenings through the back of the brain now floored and the rain of hills always sensed as hope the cold ravine of answers nearly stains the evening sometimes |
