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52 It’s all trUe (Let’s say I’m saying When I love you I am admiring the fingerprints of every hand that has touched you. Time is radiant. Vectored in all directions . And the larger issue is a little regard for straight lines. Breath coming into this idea deeper than ice age. Pushes against the same molecules. Even my saying it alters the speed light takes to reach your retina, reverses and reverses again my dimensions before you. It is dynamic, this now: We touch and touch and touch. This being again my voice, speaking into the cool green where fog sets its soft weight, my voice again asking the switchbacks: Which syllable is not daylight? Which syllable is sleep?) ...

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