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We are ancient trees of longingsaplings scrabbling skybark holding breath for morning limbs reaching for wayward starsroots thirsty for darker water. We are head-down growingfull crunch hollow halfmoons turned to stonealone in our soil-sigh wanting. Jinx us with juniper branchessmall black curses of … Continue reading
, she colors outside the lies. revels in her own muchness, such as it is at this moment in tumbled ………………-time. .. In November, we poem.