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Tea Dance
with the Contrarians Bill Freind 
This
paradisal redact, caulk-fictive,
filmable for those who
mull lowball in the collapse: so much for the listy whimwham. A
frontward oink, readied the cank, a
pause in one’s stitchery as the daunted
mutter beyond the gates. I
the narcolept, my gaps as buffets idea’d in dakotas. Bill Freind |
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Publishing Genius | copyright 2007 |