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There are two loves: 

the first ends in desertion

the second, being torn away


The pain of the first wrings my body 

more likely into frozen knots

but sometimes it catapults me

across the space between sanity and fire

until every place I stand in is unsafe

and I run

I run



The second is solace, a revolution. It carries

but simple demands: to be relived 

or remembered

or released

Book no.1
Book no.2
Book no.3
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