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July 19, 2023 / barton smock

from the book of hiatus

xviii.

My sleep crawls into hers

She hovers then holds an aerosol mask over the nose and mouth of our smallest

The machine isn't trying to tell us something
But cries anyway
To its missing stomach

If you google Vici Syndrome
If you google
Bird's beak

Most of you have been
Already
To your last place

To me the loudest noise has always been geography

Death tells god it wants to die

Not knowing where one is
Was

Heaven and the end of heaven


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