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Ryan Collins

Dear New Haven—


                                    You blow into the central standard & the air indeed bends. 

            Your fingerprints set heavy on the pyramid windows we no longer peer

            through, heavy on the pages of the Collected Frost.  A stolen gift is a gift

            just the same.  Something no laboratory can clone, no matter how many

            rodents suffer the attempts.  We live outside crude genetic duplication,

            the foolish want of so many for a body double— I’ll do all my own stunts,

            thanks.  When it’s lights camera action! before you run inside the burning

            house, make sure you’re fireproof.


            Stop, drop & roll,


                                                            Quad Cities 



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