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by David Wojahn how, o spirits, shall I invoke1 you, who cannot count himself among the chosen? My writings & keenings are interior & treated by appropriate prescription2 drugs, to whom my conversion3 is incomplete, for some days I devote myself in my error I do seek them & do wail5. From the wire mesh6 I glimpse the chalk marks, aflicker on a kind of slate7. Here is the glyph of patchouli-smell, graven on a scarf or silken dress. & here the character for a chin nicked while shaving, stubble edging a dime-sized birthmark, 点击收听单词发音
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