This body no longer
    belongs to me.

    It is a shell, a phantom,
    a piece of corn.

    Take what you want:
    I hand over blood, skin, keys
    of gold, these eyes

    that cloud with age
    and yet see mountains blue
    in your distance.

    This is not surrender.

    Freely I give what is yours.

    Move me in the world,
    take arms, work music with
your mind.

                                                                   --David Radavich



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