half_asleep_poem_sixty_one raze he asked her if she had a partition for her soul. she said she divided it up. she had a back door made of wood. (her favourite material.) he brought just one microphone outside to record the haphazard jazz band making noise far from the stage. she was searching for perfect people, not perfect planets. she passed, unsatisfied. 240319 what's it to you? who go blather from