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He said the English word for bagpipe.
I turned into a blanket and I went everywhere. With him there was great purpose.
Magic ridden to be a part of. I was the internet one time.
Even the insects in the air had noticed. They were so pensive.
The best part of lying down is the sky I learned and that is what I learned to wish for.
An understandable problem solver.
A little piece of home.
Sadness comes in bottles and it comes in jars and I let him spread it on me.
I walked when I did I was careful for everything. A special form of season.
In the dark I thought hard I thought Spring and with care I thought of remedies.
The best thing for a person is hand and foot.
What I learned about myself is too much. What I learned for people is too much.
I am a bad person. I go again and again to a room far away.
There are windows and there are great histories in people. Too much sometimes.
People try again and again and again then some.
Time enough and I am older than I was back then. When hearts come in little protective packages.
Mountains he made me. I was mountains.
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Reflecting on three monumental works of modernism—James Joyce’s Ulysses, T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, and Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus—a hundred years on.
Both regulators and employers have embraced new technologies for on-the-job monitoring, turning a blind eye to unjust working conditions.
But I do miss the hymns, / the small, hard apples with their dimpled skin. I do miss / things.