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Locals Know The Tally


Ask the desert night, wonder why, baffle about.  There is no point.  We are gone.  As a critic, as a dissident, as a rational thinker, needed is a drawing board.  Document the storms of your brain, narrow, then narrow more.


Nostalgia will do no good, perhaps a minor hint of inspiration, it's useless in the end.  Only the cool and heat of this day.  Peace must be felt now, peace of the past is gone, future peace is a flimsy promise.  Our fantastic active minds.  Madness is the opposite of rational thought, the circulations of memories, knowledge, and instincts.


Bubble, bubble, bubble.  Multiply and add, division and subtraction is a bust.  The locals know the tally, they're from around here.  Actions and reactions, mystery.  Go from here.

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