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Coming on Wet Grass The midnight sky has shed its tears over pick-pocketed a.m. streets, and I am the only living thing. Though, from somewhere, I hear chirping from the terrible kissing mouths of birds—somehow electric—when all else seems to have short-circuited. Earlier, while hidden behind the old church, I watched as the lovers disappeared […]
Subtle Fiction 
February 27, 2012
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