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I made notes of the noises

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I made notes of the noises in the music that sounded like words. Angelic tongues I could only draw as shapes. The home dialed noise-scribbling ants and turning clocks. My ears bled fountains out windows-splattering from the floor to my knees-into rivers and sand formed compact banks, edged mazes.


Ben Spivey is the author of a book. He lives in a city.