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Translucent bodies, veins inside leaves, we have no voices nor do we believe. Happily censoring our children; we censored ourselves long ago. Inside the vision there stood an apartment building torn into streaks of sun. Here is the friend who betrayed me, he returns to wind: now pick a card. Wrong again. I lift a bruise from my leg. My lips move when I sleep. When I think in sleep where is the broken friend? And there was no one on the hillside, no eyes were dark, no one interrupted the movement towards a belief offering no hope. Actually I own the future, I sunbathe in it, I write it down.
Joseph Lease Index