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To Michael Burch's previous piece
Psycho Analysis This is not what I need . . . analysis, paralysis, as though I were a seed to be planted, supported with a stick and some string until I emerge. Your words are not water. I need something more nourishing, like cherishing, something essential, like love so that when I climb out of the lime and the mulch. When I shove myself up from the muck . . . . . . we can fuck.
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