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Were me to me
to move sleep
true water toward time
angry tooth of
no reality
somewhere moment's
hold limp rings
understanding walls
flesh pocket
adrift
so angry
he was that
the world grew
dim in that
scorpion time
green men beat
the air of its tongue
for spare change
sun's tooth crooked
mouth almost real
this poem about
it.
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dream cavity
larry sawyer
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