felt: new 112

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2017-06-22 18:38:29 -04:00
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there is a man in the garden,
the back door rustles when he speaks.
i bring him offerings, grapes and
thoughts that i've forgotten in the yard;
they're drenched and soft and he devours them without making a sound.
he tells me of the flight of the merl.
i don't listen.