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On life and its vagaries

Concerned

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Louis IV

 

Type word.

Dot it.

Circumvent it.

Vanish.

 

 

abracadabra

 

Lush July, fickle me…

Birds in flight…

Sky, the selfsamesilken lava…..

What’s in me? Care of love?

 

 

Descartes

 

Poisoned by night,

I die at dawn.

Worry little, this is no return, only that, a hiatus is desultory and produces nonsense

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