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Click herea hole need fill
a stolen shiny
my heart
music
is important
sunrises/sets eggs on a platter going back to mother and womb one day out of many to sing and dance for color full tracks moving under trains all thunder of drum skin hit and hit and strummed like morning beams that ink into the world while this man wastes time all day.
one hole filled
another is the horizon
a breast pocket near little
miles away
tears so close it stings