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July 11, 2015
Supple. The flush. Morn cracks dark, splintered shadows bleed the muscular sleep, improvised plays; feted starbursts, novas, meat of spirits' appetites for the dead spread across new feast tables, all eyes are ripped of nod, the hunger rises, meets its fellows, gestures become clearer, move together, a communal hand reaches out the amorphous body with organs still untuned, confused, plugging in, coffee is brewing, breath is rising, yeasty pluck, what spent its time in cool repose, falls away, walls show different movies, the night crew was replaced, family shows are now in order, demons are drugged, put away for later.