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| Street Corner Brenda Hillman |
There was an angle where I went for centuries not as a self or feature but exhaled as a knowing brick tradesmen engineered for blunt or close recall; soundly there, meanings grew past a second terror finding their way as evenings, hearing the peppermint noise of sparrows landing like spare dreams of citizens where abstraction and the real could merge. We had crossed the red forest; we had recognized a weird lodge. we could have said song outlasts poetry, words are breath bricks to support the guardless singing project. We could have meant song outlasts poetry. |
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