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Presenting | Benjamin Collins Brown


What does it explain if I believe
language is the mother of its language.
Every voice a child, a little stranger,

born of flesh and the hole inside it.
If you holler in this well, you hear
it reply in the form of a question.

The limits of my language are the beginnings
of my world. Wait and see, says the world.
And see, and see, the tunnel of the eye.

– by Bruce Bond


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