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Robert Strong

Unless major limbs have been smashed & mutilated. You could make me. Mull it over, dimwit. It's the best way to be witness. Most painless route to sui generis. If we agreed, hypothetically, so be it. With it right here in front of us the questions go thus. It trembled. (But not like terrified—more some nascent situation.) Ask me is this what looking is like? My monitor, the darkness, nods. What looking is like is this. I tell you get up in that apple tree. My main gauge, the coming day, is persuading. Up in that apple tree is seeing things first from very far away. Light scrapes the tiptop blossom's tip. A bee plays with making honey from its toxic apple by-product. You say let me down trembling. I tell you trembling did you see it? That sure. You dust to get dust off legs you imagine toward the ground. Ask me my answer is pollen? My inside job, the court clerk, clears his throat with significance. I tell you your answer is pollen is the knowledge, and its DNA is the dust-to-dust of everlasting life, a reverse double-cross. Get down.

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