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july 2010
a prayer for midwest fields
you wouldn’t talk to me in the morning
if you don’t pick your bad days they’ll pick you
it will be obvious
it has been written
we burn, we cut, we rip
where are you tonight
what it is that i know now about what you knew all along
show don’t tell
we’re making new medicine to heal old wounds
we are crowded with thoughts
the sky just drops