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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

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