... ..chlorinate ....November 7, 2004   I hear no voice.  I hold no hand.  I taste no lip, no salty tear. And I fast. In four keys, I inhale and exhale, and gray another hair, within this monkery. I float upon the surface, face down, like a dead man. And I wonder how long, I can hold my breath. previous..|..current..|..archives..|..4th quarter index..|..next

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