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  • I have lots of undone work to be done.

    Lots of stories to be written to magazines and radio.

    Lots of stress, lots of rush.

    Instead of writing I sit by a lake at night.

    I have lost my words.

    Only me and black-throated diver awake.

    She's lost her words, too. She's looking for them.

    Wail, diver, wail.

    Dive, wailer, dive.
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