a dead hawk, a killed nighthawk, red tails around every bend, on every lightpost. dreams of giving birth to a baby with 3 sets of eyes: forward, upward, behind. three – count them – three different spiders on my chin. i know you don’t believe in signs, but i think i’m supposed to be paying attention to what’s in my sights these days.



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Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children.
-Kahlil Gibran

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