This afternoon I gathered milkweed from the meadows for the next round of foster-monarchs. We have hatched four so far, seven are in chrysalis, two caterpillars remain motoring their way through piles of leaves and we have at least one egg which with any luck will yield another. Somebody please stage an intervention if I am heard to observe that the stars resemble God's daisy chain.
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- 1: I am bound to these shores, I'll be bound till the end
- 2: Wish everyone could hear when she sings
- 3: All the ghosts, some old, some new
- 4: I cannot feel it, the veil of black, a fine spray of white paint
- 5: I make sure there are hidden messages in my work
- 6: I'll stay out until my mind is like a clear glass
- 7: The wind is blowing the planes around
- 8: Pilgrimage, private life, mortality
- 9: My dream house is a negative space of rock
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