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when the bread is taken
some crumbs remain;
these tiny bits become the all there is.
each gluten, a universe unto itself...
they can't take that away!
then there is the thought...
sprung from memory
and all the causal delights and fears...
stretching from deep within;
relics, heads in jars, pasts on display,
pasts in boxes, retrospective futures renewing.....











Apa Ya by The Headroom Project

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