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Composer :: Guitarist :: Improviser
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...most of Us...
...empty spun-sugar shibboleth...
"Colors," he says to the screen's black lattice
"Something understands," breathes the screen
i say 'me' guided by a blind instinct
...and try to become the Light?
i wanted to fly from the roof and i fell
we are digested and become nothing here
we also shape-shift at a distance
...small dull smears of meditative panic
...the string grids of excavators searching for weathered bone
dead on the surplus blankets
Mal de Coucou
what the machine understands about you doesn't actually mean anything to it
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