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The Journal of Bet Yeldem nothing
02/21/2005 04:03 a.m.
sinking slowly
Quicksand lullaby
there is no escaping
margery's dream
Trees soak me up
through the roots
i return, in the fall,
back to dirt again
deafening Riversongs
meet my hands
and i flow like desert
clouds racing dust
I am currently Detached
I am listening to planes overhead
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