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  • there's a six hundred page novel sitting like a brick inside my brother
    and he walks like it's nothing to carry such a story inside
    but i think we all know what it feels like to be burdened
    with such nebulous purpose as to actually see
    and taste and touch and smell and feel
    as though the horizon is both a theory to be tested and a limit to be approached

    and the pages he feels turning inside him
    the lines he feels being carved into the wall of his philosophy
    come in with the tide and stick like seaweed
    and if some days he finds the beach clear
    he goes and hopes the sky is clearer

    (he keeps telling me his story
    but i can never get it all down)
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