According to how you swallow the universe, birds falling are brief skeletons bitter as daisies on the broad shouldered dusk of dandelions,

How you swallow the universe ascends a ladder, turns into rain and gestures, this can’t be enough April in my socks, not enough to fathom what I would fathom-

Puddles are the subconscious of fire,
This I mean, but do not understand

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