2283
7.90
1.iv.26
a cat’s
coughup for furball world
days I’m
hardly here squeak by
breathless
there’s
a hole in my head
for
circumambulance
one
goes on with a wherewithal
with a
whisk of whim
fond
greetings
little
sniff and tell
I make
my own horizon here
we’ve
all been tricked by time
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