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Through three quarter lowered eye lids,
I dream aloud along the river.

Sometimes all is blood red, or
a lone duck attacks my foot.

Sleeping outside
on the shores of the Rivanna
leads to these
chimeras and effrontery.

The river cuts through
the scarlet violence

saying nothing,
offering no hospitality,
playing no favorites,

just ca, ca, ca, cutting
thrusting tears through closing eye cracks.

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