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Helen Bermingham
Fugue In the dead of night I swam to you Wooden dreams Burning through my thoughts In a sea of great delight I lost you Skyscraping Anticipation of a future archeology I burned myself bright In a world of forces and matter The fabric grass and the upholstered sky And the fizz in the lemonade popped The time it was, the time it took We always gather in the eye of the storm


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