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dearest Claire,

I write to you.

these days are a raft of bombs,

a choir of seagulls,

a murder of darkest winged beasts

but all I really want to tell you

is that my life feels exquisitely small

and insignificant

against the dark backdrop of

Heavy Things.

you see, I keep writing,

I miss you terribly-

more than if I'd lost myself, in some kind of fatal fight

(which maybe means that I care more about darkness than light)

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