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A SPUN TALE.

The proffered bowls of telescopes
receive the waves that wash and pound
this not-begotten universe where
sugar-spills of stars abound;
where dogged ears and eager eyes
detect in spectral origins
a point where comprehension ends,
and where the root of it begins.

◄ A SHORT ILLNESS.

DARK AND WET ONE WINTER MORNING. ►

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