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A H I S T O R Y O F T H E LY R I C I lost you to the inky noise just offscreen that calls us and partly we got stuck there waving, walking into the Percy grass. A sinking pictorial velvet spray imagining vermilion dusk. You lost me to your petticoat shimmering armor saying it is better here on my own amazon. Why can’t we or is it won’t you leave your solo ingle beside the page. Did we never consider life lyric interruption 82 to the idyll, laboring to rescue real time, lost in affection. Back roads dead-end in every epoch but our view was singular, private shared vistas of original walks. Don’t trade on this high tone for silence, rather lumen chatter recalling the better part of day. 83 ...

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