I am at my lowest ebbA thousand miles from homeThe harshness of…
We used to play in the mornings,afternoons too. Sleeveless shirtson bloated figures,…
I am revising the calendar in honorOf the esteemed pessimist societyWhose president…
Papang is hauntedby the ghost of the bicyclein the backyard. Its bones,twisted…
The line of og-ogfu winds along the trail,broken only at the height…
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