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I salute the revolution
That deep spring of churning.
of running
Of singing.
I wake up slow until the sun hits.
The sun
The ice
The bastards.
Sex:miracle or hallucination
I myself am married to the sky.
We have some bright ideas
but the sun is brighter.
We need to flee, to fly, to soar.
I hear Colorado's nice this time of year.
—Janice Ambrose
