21.xii.22
1084
3.354
art of not surviving
for ghost writing
o but it was alright then
where next?
is there a queue?
hollowing echo
world unto
bewilderness
here these trees I grew
in life when I was
an I
we each a calligraph
and flourish gone
make a kind of porridge at
in the everlasting sky
ticks over
am still with you now
day burying again
to limber
make a slurry so
I become a silence then
choose myself to be
still something mighty here
gone into the work and stay
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