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Mark Robertson

triangles + walls, 2003

our jangled nerves, our sodium fluorite treated glass, our waxy hippie candlewick strings, our solarized moon beam indigestion. Lay it around bacarat shoes for triangular cards, boxes for three-cornered 3 card monty, levitating in dreamfields of turkey MREs, a few CCs of potent analgesics and a bus transfer, shoes that don't soak through, an umbrella that holds up in the march wind.

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