and sang the sun in flight
we should have been galloping on horses
are you dreaming of what is lost?
sunflowers outside the window
hauling in lobsters pots, sun gleaming
my brother is here, my sister
stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
The stars are not wanted now
things move
pity the drunks, the old, the dead
the art of blood on snow
she wrote her notes, then blocked the door
Moondust
Little Children
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