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all square within the confines
of the cask conditioned discothèque
from without my fitful anti-sleep
came the wasps
and creeping hands
that spidered across the ceiling and floor
unsure of the etiquette for trembling
delirium
yet, for three pages, I was
in the clear, gone, beyond the provincial
boots of leaden grit, though by the fourth
the int...
Friday 20th September 2013 9:00 pm
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