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Updated: Mar 8, 2020

When I first approached writing my own memoir, collaboration was not what I had in mind. Years later, in the early spring, I wrote again.

"Come on and we can talk."

I went, and we talked, passing a warm morning in the sun-flooded room.

Conversation was loose, rambling, and frequently interrupted.

There were questions.

The interruptions were unpleasant.

They left me time to reflect.


Blackout Poetry


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