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Friday

we were still working



collected all the information of the world like it was loose glitter after a party, swept unavoidable with dust and bits of grass or gravel --

An Elegy for the Loose Prismatic Splinters: gauze fields, crystalline stilts, columns to support your heavy head

(meanwhile the planet rotates inaudibly in the background, and we dance slowly towards the future:)

Small Tombs for Our Unknown Desires
(contact mic your track marks)