January 2012
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Postman Cheval
surrealism:
We the birds that you always charm from atop those lookouts And who each night merge into a single flowering branch from your shoulders to the arms of your beloved wheelbarrow Who tear ourselves away from your wrist more vividly than sparks We are the sighs of the glass statue that raises itself on its elbow when man sleeps And may glowing gaps open up in his bed Gaps through...
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Going dark
See you on the flipside.
http://sopablackout.org/learnmore/
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