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Son Dao
163 followers -
I like to draw, shoot photos, cook and eat
I like to draw, shoot photos, cook and eat

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Violin
She practices violin Sounds not quite sing songy Cats are ambivalent of notes Pacing like the bow 

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Scotland
This is not Braveheart’s Scotland It is the misty filed that she and I walk Hand in hand on cold winter mornings The only heat being between our palms  February 15, 2017

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But on Monday night, after lots of negative feedback, Facebook reversed course. A spokesperson told me that the company had dug into the matter further and determined that “we’re not using location data, such as device location and location information you add to your profile, to suggest people you may know.”

I have reportorial whiplash. I’ve never had a spokesperson confirm and then retract a story so quickly.

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Walking Beneath the Trees
walking beneath the trees   the song comes in my head and  heart twists into an empty shape fortuitously filling a void   the breeze is light on touch like your voice beside my ear i can hear fleeting whispers and mad raucous laughter   is it real that you’...

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bread and pho
you’ll never get to taste my bread i’ll never get to use your mixer just think of the flour fight that might ensue just think of the cackling of two magpies i will name a new kind of dough after you it will have sweetness of dried fruits  and an over abunda...

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a scottish cemetary
in scotland this time of year; daffodils carpet the cemetery;  so delicate, swaying gently. old man’s beard laden the old oaks; i wandered beneath them on worn paths. hard to believe i found such tranquility; hard to accept you are to be in such a place. in...

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parked here
for i. s. parked here, i sit wondering of you two weeks have passed and no word since you said you’re calling 911. parked here, sweet crepes and butter were our morning delight in franz's since days we could claim youth. don’t let this be that kind of poem ...

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mother and i
mother and i, she tried to be a grower but didn’t get grandfather’s green thumb; i did. i am the grower and i am the arranger, too; that is from my father. i arrange flowers that are words; words that are images; it was his gift. my aunt says it’s apparent....
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