When the old origamimelted, the crash of pieces formed ushymnal-print white down where the tilted dayfirst moved in the clefts  glistening over scattered moss and aboriginal hoofs that had escaped the ghostbut not the blood. Dividing the furlike a mountain silhouettegradually erased by a darkening red atmosphere, ripe green swordsbore our faces under the fetal chandelierof giant stars.  by Daniel Gillespie …

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