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Swish the cars descend the hill
Clocks tic at will
The dogs breathe
Almost quiet where body leaves

The pain behind
No one for whom to whine
It is thy grace
To write the thing behind this face

That's spirit's sublimations
Male species and their temptations
There's writing on my wall
In almost quiet, I can pray not to fall

To make it through
Where poetry is kind
To be my feeling
In nursery rhyme

In almost quiet
The faithful good
God made me to be
Is understood...

1/6/2007 1450 cj

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