ForkWordPoems by Inchiki |
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two storiesThere is a sort of pain in not knowing Relieved by? Knowing, and the odd crumpet. So it is. Old, old story. The only story! And masterful fairy story That thin wedge of truth pries you apart and fills it all with starry seedimentv (lighter than airy breath taste of pure water) between long groany days of shattered ignorance winds blow times flow a kind of peace in not knowing the absence of a thought the presence of a sound twice missed, the human race walks on 30.4.98 from the red notebook, 1998 |
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