SHOT Comments

It is the things just in-between, the un-
firm ones, that strike you like a seed-fluff shot.

Shape of wind in trees so are the things just
in-between, the shape of anything,

(he in the metro, his pregnant wife leans her back
against his stomach - he puts his
hand at her neck, lifts from her
hair a strand and then tastes it,
sniffs at it, love shines him
so in the eyes that he squeezes them shut. Ah!

softly he gyrates softly round the void)
...
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