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lives of astrologers What flickers isn’t heavenly light, but the discredited pen moving across numbers with the stealth of a murderer. Whoever you are, I’m not here to answer your call. I’ve been sidetracked by meteor showers, knocked cold by the flu. I’ve taken to burying raccoons electrocuted along the gated high-security community. Stay away from what hums. Stay away from shiny temptations laid on the table by a dirty hand. Power lines thread through the ground, satellites circuit and corrupt the zodiac. What bad news will come on sluggish steps and how long should I wait with an extra dollar pinned to my underwear? Spend what you have, grasshopper, and come closer, bring me your small flash, whatever instant gladness you have to share. I’m not trained in the martial arts, every part is vulnerable, especially the underside of the tongue. I’ve covered every entry in the book, each charted point condenses to now. It’s true nothing can be moved without a triggering effect. There are no pushers, there is motion within motion. Why not stay still, stick around awhile? Speak to me about things if only the weather. There’s humanness in it. 31 ...

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