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needles needling needlessly with little thread... or much of anything else...

(foolish dribbles to be written at uncertain times, on an irregular basis, from uncertain sections of the ever expending universe, and from whatever dimension I-We-Us-Them might find ourselves/ myself in …)

Sunday, February 06, 2005

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Going from word
to music
from syllables
to notes
the poet drank one instant
and chanted for a year
the last second.
Posted by: François Pointeau / 00:30
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