If density shows eyesight mirroring spongy bodies hiding in soul without no verb
one should wonder where the fingers around the vocals should leave or sieve herb

or disappear

Signing tiny whines of automatic soft design we are the melting machine gathering
in word what breath would hiss hush should bacteria tree fish tell from smothering

the varied beginning

Now no snow is hiding all burns in swim skin high towards the flame world without
end stumbling to the final whimper of an unannounced touch of brim skin and shout

 

 

 

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Adriaan Krabbendam (Tunis, 1955) is antiquary, profound sleeper, doctor of the unknown, coachman of relations between the chthonic and the restricted human role in disasters, beachcomber laureate, firm simpleton, now and at the hour of our death, factotum of cities and landscapes, world without end

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