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157 in a cave you have never never been through When someone will find you only your tooth sticking out of a rock and kneels down to kiss the only tooth he’s ever found. sculpture The dogs are barking. I am cutting. Am cutting like the sounds of the sniffling baby in the momma’s          womb. The sniffle is clean. Now the night isn’t black. How is night not over, cuddling us from the dark?                            (It’s over) Day has cut. Now I have to get something. The sun has cut                    into the dirty glass. passion for the sky You are near me. The night is rectilinear and light in the new lipstick on your mouth and on the colored flowers. The irises are blue. As far as I look we are across. A 158 boat crosses by. There is no monkey in me left: sleep. There is something sold, lemons. Corn is whizzing from the ground. You are sleeping and day starts its lipstick. Where do we go from here? Blue irises. Road of Trials for Rosemary If I went to a medicine man I wouldn’t kiss any more, I would know my limits. She always erases, mentions that just as spring is a seal; a made        person for any more beating. And I        feel sacred in you like the tongue.          See, even this   animal’s gamboge one.   From up north at     the long black              trees. Over and with all man in woods. Yes and no, I’m         hungry. You want everything. Not only that    we have to            die ferociously    in love’s beary arms. You want everything,     everything. ...

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