rain comes on days when i am in a hurry, but in some other lifei will stop and watch the glass melt. the squat green trees and the pinebushes, melting into smaller parameters. the rain sound like lo-fi likea tin roof turned inward, and a thousand nails -- clattering clatteringclattering. but it is soft, like… Continue reading poem: outside of the internet it is May
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i could be bound in a nutshell and count it as infinite space if not for these bad dreams
the last pavilion 