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Little Suffering Sun
I’m looking around like a stoned owl. i see how the rain pours
down the yellow leaves of a tree. i don’t have problems with that.
my feathers are thoroughly coated with wax that smells like chocolate.
i stare into the gray day and think. from somewhere far away you message
me on the machine that you’re on your way to the desert.
i’m here, under the blue sky and alone with bears.