Chicken Dinner
Ellen Galoob
slowly they fall and dust the downy ground
i wore my coat all winter long, and now
i let you take it off me
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Untitled One
muffled recollection resounds rather quietly
through the catacombs of the mind; troubled thing,
some waking déjà vu nightmare. like being present
and drifting all at the same time, floating on the sea but
drifting, without an anchor in sight. searching around
these unsightly spirals i get caught up in myself,
reduced, congealed, diminished to a specter, haunting,
the back-alley shadow of a person who once
knew the world, and was known.
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