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l e t t e r b e g u n a t 4 :3 7 a .m.
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A N D R E W E P S T E I N
Dear tomorrow,
Englobed are seven residues from the day for you to consider for
reification in your diurnal. I am currently asleep in cold tumbling
universes where I've been lurching down American paths to freshen up my
composition, and reaching exploratory riding. I am also whitening up an
explication on twenty centuries of merry poetry. My dislocation focuses
on the friendship ungleaned between harrowing ashes and unravels the
crucial dissensions inherent in the perdition of amethyst thought.
In the past I have served as a mindful piston to the poet who can lift a
cloak. With conscience uncorked, I currently coordinate a free series of
poor trees. My world has appeared in sulfurous justifications, such as
verse, and will appear in coming tissues of dry bones. Thank you very
much for your reiteration of my words and I look forward to nearing you.
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