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carmen brando

Sara Couden

(thin formed like a ghost.
yet unwield. like rock or stone.)
scraps fell from the curvaceous talon-wielder gay
   horace the yellow sun.
the sun spilt red cherry product it rained down
onto the head and shoulder.
hey down-a-down.

it was in the sky though.
it was sunset. there was a glow
about it.

the hills were loadbearing they were like blackened
there may have been
an explosion

and boy how I loved

Sara Couden

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