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214 JuAnITA TorrenCe-ThomPson A Cento of Lucy Angeleri’s Poetry Unborn, free streams of cognizance I am desperate for a place of my own I curl into this mind scene and start to feel the soft water lapping my feet: some day I will fall into pockets of mass . . . walk through the facade sprayed with lemon sun A cloud-burst will inundate hymns and sweet verbiage . . . chanting Finally, a moment of grace and blessed silence ...

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