oh ok it moves
into, i know that’s right wrinkle at a word intro to amplifier slowed
context, or: even typos have got wrongs,
flooded into baked dozens, in errata ice sheet melted to flood bits &
peaces of the long-inter-twisted city;
all that time he was speaking neither verse nor prose but ideology and
he didn’t know it; he didn’t no (it ....
that); lightening’s register; at the large echoing space like a cavern, a
base like a tavern; introduction slips
into gaining some ragged locked at a rock trope steadily; i see that the epistolary novel is not
a pistol-wary hovel, or, only at the
transitional edges ...
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