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w h i t e k n u c k l e
-Miner Key Mix
Walk into town as if into the song being written about today. (It’s bad luck to drive on a sick day). If I saved up all my sick days, if I lay on the pier listening to the waves, while my kayak floats away… There are sounds that melt you. There are sounds so in love with each other. There is this impossibly supple voice singing, a woman’s (but you already knew that). She seems to know exactly how many more days there are, when one season will begin bleeding the next, when things will start or stop growing. Walk into the last chorus, I tell myself, pretend you can reach the octave above her.
slow pedestrians
Daniel Hales
blind drive
prose poetry for the people
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