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Bill Conger
about
Exhibitions
Work
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Gold 3
ghost freight
corpus
We were like skies
night pool
pietá
somebody's ghost
coelacanth
something like leaving
to open windows
luxury man
some lovely days some lovely days
noon, hotel adlon
more than ever when it can't be
evening days
electricity, green olives, distant ringing
matter of shadows and going away
now were alone now
endless night
triumph of death
coming cold
closer to her heart
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