Possessing a weapon has made me bashful.Tears appreciate in this economy of pleasure.The ether of data engulfs the capitol.Possessing a weapon has made me forgetful.My oboe tars her cenotaph.The surface is in process.Coruscant skinks emerge in force.The moon spits on a copse of spruce.Plausible opposites stir in the brush.Jupiter spins in its ruts.The wind extends its every courtesy.I have never been here.Understand?You have never seen me.

-Ben Lerner

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