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I Died in a Past Life
The memory that races me
 to its pen.
Who we were is what we'll write.
The mouth that drags me
around by its kiss.
Who we are is what we say.
The moment that walls me
to its still.
Who we'll be is what we've done.
Meditation
My head is an empty public rest
room full
of flushing
urinals.
Relativity Fragment
I can't remember
a time when
I didn't have
amnesia.
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