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Post-Mortem of a Fallow Field
I dreamt of home last night. Your eyes were green – a cut of lime against the tongue – they star
Complaints from the Chinese Boudoir
“At daybreak, I pace idly in the courtyard with a silk fan. Cold autumn is at hand, and I know the
boju says
he is now the 2am ambak falling on our tin roof & maybe but i don
