In the needled clicking over mind she knits with wool soft thoughts of yesterday and weaves his wrinkled laughter through her broken brow...
I taste the Still of hibernating beasts the bristled fir that clings to jagged claws...
Holding the moon's eye through fluid silver wings we arrive with the one conical answer...
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9/22/2024 3:05:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119