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HONEY FROM THE ROCK My love must hold to fluency as to statute, fable, rock of what imprints us in the shakes of being where we are. Hold to the shifts of light hold to the spring and heap of water brings it in, junk of night and flowers, takes it out. Sweet flag of dawn, our integreties are all the inroads we can make, their poles. Life sucks itself to life in Granny Day's swamp as I wait for you and you for me, and bullfrog music environs common spring. Rain fills the pools, I cannot declare my love but it holds to fluency as I imagine holding you.