Hole here. Hole there.No treasure. Not even athud. Days. Nights.So much dirt. Some people askwhat I’m hoping to find. I’m tempted to show themthe tunnels I’ve found. Frank William Finney […]
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Hole here. Hole there.No treasure. Not even athud. Days. Nights.So much dirt. Some people askwhat I’m hoping to find. I’m tempted to show themthe tunnels I’ve found. Frank William Finney […]
Read morePulled from the mouth of the mother tongue. These words are all I carry now. They bend. They crack. They disappear. They hide inside the inner ear. They shake the […]
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