half_asleep_poem_ninety_six raze i fear half of what i hear from all of her, and age is narrower than dust. i could kill the angel compound from boston, but that wouldn't cast me out of the flock. so i turned to tin. she didn't leave. she relocated, looking like lonely wild spun love. the wind provides me just enough gaps to fill her mind, which has completely changed the alteration of her bones. it's already begun — ashes springing up like new arguments. 241219 what's it to you? who go blather from