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May 9, 2017 / barton smock

vespers

them raccoons out there is tarrying*

up

yr bible

*tearin

border: my eyes can’t stop what the back of my head is eating

mirror: a godless hyphenate

my man is a body whose moon is vacant

they is out there to flood

sightseers

with basilisk

porn

in the valley of my choking
the fingers of my father
are going
dog’s-collar
purple

out-the-way churches. and acne

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