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When the Gloved Hand Waved Goodbye
We buy the ticket, hum the peace, and weep inside the dark.
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Three Buddhist Teachings for Anyone Drowning in the Noise
Seeing clearly might be the most rebellious thing you can do.
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Fleece
The ventriloquist so devoted to the act he's forgotten he is speaking.
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Volume II — The Torn Pages
The want—that vulgar, enormous engine—has not died; it just fits quieter amplitudes.
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Volume I — The Worn Pages
I learned the dialect of my own heart in a country that owed me nothing.
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Flight of the Fireflies
They are weaving their gold-wire signatures through the ruin.
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The Weight of the Sun
The world isn't a race to be won; it's a texture to be felt.
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Hello, World
somewhere between signal and silence, I began.