(place) by rack and ruin Wed Aug 23 2006 at 6:40:59
I can see the night come
curling up into my phantom lashes.
The climbing ivy, supine, praying for me,
my empty bed, for the white brick.
The air, in crimson groves now, neat as kid gloves
clips away
all I do not know
about this place.
I like it!

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