The gate is not a fan of the key
more like the sword is the fan
of the sky and sky sense
breathes on my neck you are absent
from the night and its interior drama
the spiders their webs plus dead wasps
so conspicuous drying out their lives
on the third floor of Deady the area
wiped clean of last year or is it
will it ever be all the way clear
just what is happening just what
has gone down this life my dreams
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