Torrential–in the branches–time comes down, and Sibyl can’t stop the clock. Every word that Heather speaks she wants to hear before leaving the world. Nothingness enchants nothing. Show her the roots of your sound, Heather. Let your dense coronation ring–go to the sundial and redial it, find sundown’s second down. Enter with your heart’s chords the universal orchard universal in violet. Something is blackening over the rainbow, perhaps it is a rock fracture in the mountains. And so you will hate to listen to the blood’s sea-shadow. You run away to sea and I to tea.

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