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Reading Calvin an Calvino on the mail boat from west Orleans in new Ireland we headwind aloft
We picked up the draft off Reykjavik the paper fine and the winder wine sweeter than Shinexx herself
Her book a quality quayside invention
Her spine bent with the wind as it best does
Nightly
Hold yr littoral lots yr tote bag reader ready
Yr break steady the steeple bell rings ring
Her love page
This muse of above and below the obvious melody our Gallic sweep the Celtic rain and sun
Run the hum o ff ice Ice glacier O mariner fro the foothill foolhardy
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