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                the slug moves its way
                     across the stone
                     leaves a trail
                     adds to the mulch
                     its what slugs do
                all the time without notice

                I publish my work and
                     teach my lessons
                     I leave a patina
                     each time I speak
                     its what I am
                all the time without effort





acceptance wormhole: satin poem
garden wormhole: there
publishing wormhole: all
stone wormhole: then
talking to myself wormhole: slowly