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Muscles aching at 8am but
air outside my bed is cold as
the icy, grasping  claws of
a giant bear who  would eat
the crust. So long as the
thrum of bird wings upon water
deep as druid time. Arch ways
open onto vast, unexplored
folds of soft skin. That's
nonsense if i ever saw it
leap from hill to  highland, 
filled with craggy 
And I surrender to impending.
-finished 3/4/2014 5:18:47 PM PST
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