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Contents of a Censor’s Outbox

When she sat at her desk her back was to the window and the view, an expanse of perfectly green lawn with a flagpole stuck in the middle of it.


The first layer contained nothing new, nothing nobody hadn’t ever seen before.

The Ether Ride

Engaging gyroscopic calligraphy, you unkink kinetic coil logistics’ swinging gestures. Simulated determinations sway your reckoning.


The Brooklyn Rail

MAY 2006

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