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March 3, 2009

CAAF: Loose notes

The sheep know where they are,
Browsing in their dirty wool-clouds,
Gray as the weather.
The black slots of their pupils take me in.
It is like being mailed into space,
A thin, silly message.

Sylvia Plath, "Wuthering Heights"

Posted March 3, 2009 12:17 AM

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