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7 NEW฀PAPER under฀a฀pen฀isn’t snow.฀฀I฀see฀the฀real฀thing out฀my฀window฀piled฀up in฀cold฀sunlight.฀฀It฀just฀isn’t. Isn’t฀a฀lapse of฀anyone’s฀memory฀though that฀might฀help฀me฀sleep.฀฀I’m฀anyone at฀night. ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ New฀paper฀getting฀inked฀up already฀with฀words.฀฀Revision:฀฀inked฀up already฀with฀these฀words. ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ But฀it฀is,฀it฀is฀ a฀cold฀war฀movie about฀Russia.฀฀Lots฀of฀tundra,฀and฀little mustached฀figures฀bundled฀up in฀the฀corner,฀waiting to฀do฀something.฀฀On฀skis. Or฀dog฀sleds.฀฀A฀throw-back.฀฀Before the฀Revolution?฀฀Before฀the฀Revolution.฀฀ Or฀not.฀฀I฀can’t฀make฀it฀out for฀the฀snow฀locked฀ back฀in฀that฀theater, ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ voices฀that฀blast the฀eardrum฀ straight,฀such฀would-be฀whispers of฀love.฀฀How฀is฀it ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ that฀time฀has฀ layers฀and฀layers,฀ some฀of฀which฀never฀move฀ or฀fill฀up.฀฀Meanwhile:฀฀a฀favorite฀word฀ any฀poem฀understands฀to฀be snow’s฀most฀legendary฀suggestion.฀฀ The฀second:฀฀melt. ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ The฀third:฀฀I฀need฀to฀ freeze฀first.฀฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ ...

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