"though i pay little attention to these things
written on charts what i read is your skin
that took its marks before me
and your hair that never waves farewell but always hello hello i made it how are you?
Your girl's slip like the lip of a valley of wind
carrying with it the scent of things i cannot see...
sense memory of the sea and a perfumed jewel box
given to you by your mother the day you were born.
A forest exhales through fragile painted lips
and the seeds of a faithful sewer settle upon my tongue"
-kevin rolly
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