Withering.

October 7, 2009
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in a dream landscape
i scatter fragments that wither
from the robot memory.
i tuck in the pieces, to the soft
mold of the world.
hidden, for winter, for storage--
so I can see how they grow.
will snow cover nightly
letters? letters I use alone-
to keep myself, occupied
while alone, away from you.
they used to tuck me in at night-
whole-heartily, like a scratchy blanket.





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