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| March 2005 / Volume VI / Issue II | ||||||||||
| Jane Adam | ||||||||||
| Chain hurts like a bitch as they say while i’m smelling grass and gasoline hearing my motor grinding metallic & fleshy & the sun shines on everything anyway smell that– sun on grass sun smell forever laid into that underground hurting snagged and carried like a bright cloth in a bicycle chain around and around a scrap of beauty snagged in that bitch chain |
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| RETURN to MARCH 2005 | ||||||||||