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9 in open fields of round        mechanicalness,           melancholiness invisible autumn The blade days——— like Summer rush Apollo leans. The way the sun comes up, the sun leans. The sun leans less than in the north, but one lean is as good as another. Now it’s autumn, but you would never know. The blade days like Summer, rush metaphorical desert What do we do with lemon nakedness desert arms after ocean prying oneself? This is synthetic day clearly defined on the sleeves of evening and how turned around when rooster barks at six We speak of the streets and they become coordinative, a fountain whose water becomes a vein. ...

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