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Day Thirteen There was a time when I'd recognise words as mine. Not floating around like party-crashing strangers. Lost spectres haunt...
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Day 2 Simple fingers to the string What a little thing to cultivate, unreal as it is; not to be seen or touched but felt, enduring, where so...
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Day Twenty Fantastic style designs on pottery from Hacilar. Image from Yakar 2005. The ancients believed That culture was Construed by pot...
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Day Thirty I like a poem because it's not like a painting. Because I'll confidently cradle something stainless; hold the exceptio...
One of my favorites so far. "Screwed up to shaking but too spooked to unfurl." I love that.
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