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Bars poetica This is the story I’ve tried to tell. Guy exists. Father mother sister brother. Oh pretty stars, oh bastard moon I see you watching me.The trembling years leading to sex, the trembling sex. Death as garnish. Death as male lead, female lead, death as a cast of thousands. God in, on, as, with, to, around, because who knows because. All the while feeling air’s a quilt of tongues, that spaces between words are more articulate than words. It’s not like you’d hope, that anyone can make sense. Look around you, let your ears breathe deep—almost no one does. Have another drink.When they throw us out there’s a place down the street that never closes, and when it does we’ll climb a fire escape and praise the genealogy of light.The Big Bang sounds like what it was, the fucking that got everything under way. That love was there from the start is all I’ve been trying to say.  ...

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