2018 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 29

Tomorrow is the final day of this year’s challenge. Crazy!

For today’s prompt, write a remix poem. That is, take one of your poems from earlier in the month and remix it. If it was originally free verse, maybe take a few key lines and turn it into a sonnet or villanelle. Or make small changes that remix the meaning of the poem.


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Here’s my attempt at a Remix Poem:

“when the cold wind blows” (triolet mix)

when the cold wind blows raw outside
i crave the solitude & rain
with nobody left to confide
as the cold wind blows on outside
leaving nowhere for me to hide
all my thoughts away from my pain–
no, the cold wind blows raw outside
craving the solitude & rain!


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine. He remixed his day 14 poem. Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.

102 thoughts on “2018 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 29

  1. AvatarShennon

    At the moment
    You walk
    Through my door
    My broken spirit
    Renews itself
    As it bathes
    In early morning dew
    Stretching under
    Shimmering golden
    Fingers of sunlight
    Clawing at the night sky
    Desperate to release
    My mood from its funk
    Dismay and anguish
    Vanquished by optimism
    Until you leave again.


  2. AvatarEarl Parsons

    Remix from the 19th – 3 of 6 words

    Another Con

    Mr. Oxymoron loaded up the truck
    With toxic toilet treasures all boxed up
    One pass of the barcode reader exposed
    These toilet treasures weren’t toxic at all
    Oh, no, they were just flushable junk
    Mr. Oxymoron’s was a master of bunk

  3. AvatarYolee


    sticks to my gut like jasmine rice in the cauldron-
    jackhammer’s cement making a way out of no way-
    breaks out of bed-head hair thoughts-

    uproots the ocean- clings to the wind-
    reaches for heirlooms
    lost in the lion’s mouth.

    It is incandescently clear when mamas gaze at their young.

  4. AvatarBruce Niedt

    I took eight of my earlier poems from this month and turned them into haiku/senryu. There may be more to come:

    Haiku Review

    Halloween concert –
    huge carrot on tympani
    gives me confidence

    eight brave musicians
    playing their own requiem
    on the Titanic

    shower-stall concert –
    sing favorite songs off-key –
    make it a duet

    lost for centuries
    a Vivaldi concerto
    charms our high-tech ears

    no ticket-puncher
    this conductor guides our trip
    with a magic wand

    a giggling crowd
    gets its just reward from Monk –
    sarcastic encore

    another city
    please throw change into my
    battered guitar case

    playlist at 16:
    I dig rock n’ roll music –
    all you need is love

    1. AvatarBruce Niedt

      …and a few more:

      burning November
      during an early snowstorm
      with Christmas music

      old rockers singing
      the final songs they’ve written –
      penultimate breaths

      the virtuoso
      on the concert grand once had
      a toy piano

      this senior romance –
      chain restaurant with coupons
      snoozing to the news

  5. AvatarSarahLeaSales

    From Within

    God was there between them,
    holding both their shaky hands.
    Crumbling was that faith
    that marriage was forever,
    but when they looked at one another,
    seeing one another the way they did,
    they saw from their reflections
    in the windows of their souls
    that God was the fulcrum,
    and she, the power suit in her marriage
    and he,
    in his birthday suit,
    was a kept man.
    But for this practice of self-reflection,
    of seeing themselves obstructed in the beam
    they saw in one another’s eyes,
    they also saw that he needed her
    as much as she wanted him.

  6. Avatargrcran

    Ode to a shell

    Oh abalone you are one ridgy shell
    Got pinkness purple beige mother of pearl
    Humans give you carbon dioxide hell
    As we receive your rainbowed nacre whirl
    Perceiving as we make your oceans sterile
    Your fondest hope to see mankind go feral
    Crawl back upon their bellies to the sea
    Remove themselves from Earth eternally

    (sorry so dark y’all… been a longlong month… this is remixed from my salty poem in which a human crawls out of the sea)
    gpr crane

  7. Avatartripoet

    The Act of Stuffing

    She chows down hating the sweet sickening taste of the cookies
    she’ll later upheave. It seems like overkill ripping open the bag
    of Oreos, hiding in the closet of her locked single dorm room.
    She begs, “Sweet Jesus, save me.”

  8. AvatarMET

    Burnt Bridge (a different perspective)

    I pulled you into a ring of fire.
    The burning blaze consumed us and
    Ignited a wild fire, but
    Rains always come to douse
    Those kinds of flames.
    It ended with us
    Standing on each end
    Of a wooden bridge.
    You looked at me.
    I looked at you.
    We burned that bridge
    Between us.
    I stood watching it burn towards you.
    You stood watching it burn towards me.
    Then we turned
    Without looking back…

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 29, 2018

  9. AvatarJane Shlensky

    Dog Views Man
    (a sestina reduction)

    The old dog
    rolls in leaves,
    distracted from rats
    in the barn, the forgetfulness
    of old dogs on missions.
    Old dogs dream puppyhood
    just as old men do, remembering
    youth as a series of disjointed events,
    something they might read in a book
    or bury in a hole in a corn field.

    The old dog watches the man pause,
    knowing he has forgotten
    the task at hand. What’s a dog
    to do but sniff around, tilt
    his head for sounds, woof
    once to remind him:
    breakfast. Then the man
    bangs pots, fills bowls,
    and pets ears. Neither
    of them is what he once
    was and they both know it,
    now mateless, fumbling
    through memories of
    softness and chew toys–
    but they are a team,

    a poor excuse for one,
    but a team, bound together
    by shared time, need,
    love maybe.

  10. Avatarlsteadly

    After the Burning – a Sestina (remix from my Nov 9 poem)

    It is my husband’s hand that strikes the match
    To set the autumn leaf pile on fire
    I’m hoping there was no hidden nest
    But since the chickadees stopped singing
    I question the need of our burning
    Dreading the hour when just embers remain

    When only hot coals and ashes remain
    There is no need to strike another match
    For this is the end of the burning
    I cannot bear to light another fire
    That brings an end to the singing
    And sends the birds away from their nests

    The blue jays scream as they fly from their nest
    Warning the forest that nothing remains
    Not even the chickadees are singing
    It all vanished with the strike of a match
    When the leaf pile erupted in fire
    Because the land was due for a burning

    My face and hands flush from the burning
    I see house wrens dart away from their nest
    Nature falls silent under the fire
    When none of the wild remain
    All of this the result of a match
    That stopped every one of the birds from singing

    I only wish I could recall the singing
    And stop the need for all of this burning
    Why do we even strike the match
    That has the power to destroy the nest
    Or anything else that may remain
    After it has suffered through the fire

    Every autumn we live through the fires
    Desperate to remember the singing
    Uttered by the sparrows that remain
    Who witnessed the tempest from the burning
    Still determined to build a new nest
    Farther from striking distance of the match

    And though another match may set on fire
    Some hidden nest that held the singing
    Its burning will not destroy the song that yet remains

  11. AvatarHeather

    I remixed day 3’s rant.

    I’m ready for new,
    Updated, fixated
    In the exceptional.

    I’m ready for fun,
    To Become undone
    In surrender
    And newfound passion.

    I’m ready for joy,
    Being coy with my boys
    And laughing
    Until our sides hurt.

    I’m ready for life,
    Without strife,
    Peace abounding,
    For everyone, everywhere.

  12. Avatarbethwk

    I remixed my poem, The Keeper of Memory from the job description day, as a villanelle. I can definitely say that I am no Dylan Thomas, but it was fun to play with the sounds and the rhythms, even if some of it got a little forced and repetitive.

    The Keeper of Memory spins golden strands,
    gathering webs from the stuff of dreams,
    weaving the memories in her hands.

    From the smoke of days, from the dream-time sands,
    she tells and retells as she stitches the themes:
    The Keeper of Memory spins golden strands.

    She draws out the stories where she stands,
    one shining cloth like a flowing stream,
    weaving the memories in her hands.

    All the days of your life, as the cloth expands,
    run and tumble along the seams—
    The Keeper of Memory spins golden strands.

    Wisdom and innocence follow her commands.
    She pulls all the pieces from every extreme,
    weaving the memories in her hands.

    Traveling and raveling the pathways that span
    the arches of rivers, the bridges and beams,
    The Keeper of Memory spins golden strands,
    weaving the memories in her hands.

  13. AvatarSara McNulty

    Leave It In My Hands

    Heavily rouged, lips painted blood red,
    gold bracelets, and earring dangling
    to her collarbone, the old Matchmaker
    explains the virtues of arranged marriages.

    Darling, why shop around? Who
    do think is out there? This way,
    I find a nice boy from good
    background. So wonderful I feel
    to make good matches for couples.

    Love, Shmuv. Let me ask you,
    darling, do you think married
    people who met on their own
    are any happier. Look at
    statistics. Not to worry,
    darling, you will learn
    to love him.

    (Taken from my Etheree of Day 7
    entitled Match Maker)

  14. Avatartunesmiff

    G. SMITH
    Tired of being sick and tired,
    Tired of being sore;
    Since the day that I was hired,
    Tired of being sick and tired,
    And worrying if I’m next to be fired;
    But I’ll hold my head up as I walk out the door;
    Tired of being sick and tired,
    Tired of being sore.

  15. AvatarJane Shlensky

    Dog Views Man
    (a sestina reduction from Day 26)

    The old dog
    rolls in leaves,
    distracted from rats
    in the barn, from forgetfulness
    of old dogs on missions.
    Old dogs dream puppyhood
    just as old men do, remembering
    youth as a series of disjointed events,
    something they might read in a book.
    The old dog watches the man pause,
    knowing he has forgotten
    the task at hand. What’s a dog
    to do but sniff around, cock
    his head for sounds, woof
    once to remind him:
    breakfast. Then the man
    bangs pots and pets ears.
    Neither of them is what he once
    was and they both know it,
    now womanless and mateless,
    fumbling through memories–
    softness and chew toys–
    but they are a team,
    a poor excuse for one,
    but a team, bound together
    by shared time, need,
    love maybe.

  16. Avatartrishwrites

    Remix from Day 13 for my family theme for the month. This one’s for my daughters.

    I said I miss the pitter patter of feet
    But did I tell you I appreciate
    I found new friendship
    With you
    Sharing and wanting
    Failing but still you rise
    With grace
    Bursting at the seams
    on dreams
    Your spirit
    Crystal pure
    Curious as a
    restless breeze
    Your brave heart
    That even
    the sun can’t help
    When you walk in

  17. AvatarMET

    Golden Joinery (Kintsugi)

    The pink and twilight blue
    Of the pottery of my favorite mug, and
    A foolish mistake by me
    Sent it falling to the floor
    With the pottery scattering
    Coffee splashed high,
    And I fell to the floor with it
    Crying out in pain
    Of all I had lost.
    This mug, a symbol,
    Of how broken things
    Are tossed.
    I was broken like that mug…
    Too many empty chairs
    Within my life.
    How could I be whole
    With so many shattered pieces?

    It was memories
    Like an ancient lacquer
    Sprinkled with gold dust
    Slowly mending the pieces
    Filling the empty chairs, and
    Creating beauty out of brokenness.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 29, 2018

  18. AvatarUma

    Remix of a remix from poems on Day 6 and Day 25


    I lose myself in the depths of your voice
    where I find a world I have never known
    Where between love and silence there exists
    no gulf, no chasm between flesh and bone

    In the silken warmth of your dulcet tones
    I melt like snow on a warm winter day
    and savour each word falling from your lips
    as a flower basking in the sun’s rays

    But this is a world I spin in my dreams
    a cocoon of mellifluous cadence
    as ephemeral as a silken web
    A fleeting reminder of your presence

    Sleep shatters; with it these fancy notions
    I drown again in a silent ocean

  19. AvatarDe Jackson

    This is a cento remix of lines from ALL 29 days so far (as well as still nodding to all the prompts). I was gonna do this tomorrow, but since today’s prompt calls for it…

    Feeling fractured, not quite full
    (A praised day found)

    Please forgive me for the song
    that loops around us now,
    this quiet separation

    We raise
    our tiny voices
    to the sky –
    doodler of dragons,
    an unsolvable equation
    of puberty and pain,
    lost marbles in onion
    -skinned silence.

    I’ll tell you a secret:
    We are warriors in waiting,
    tired of sprawling loose and long
    in this bright sky. We have been here
    for hours and hours.
    most of them black as night,
    reveling in the glory of

    We know we are
    stained glass. A glint of sun. A moonlit gasp,
    too really loud, too much
    for my unquiet heart.

    But here’s a hint
    (a further protest of the dark,
    with all the pomp and circumstance):

                   it’s nothing new.

    We’re still here
    just waiting for the stars to fall,
    hungry for that unrepentant moon
    and her jagged smile. (She
    makes a pass
    and paints us flush,
    blush rub
    -bled toxic skin).

    I think it might be my fault;
    I can’t erase these words,
    so burn this before they find us.
    (And please, forgive my salt.)

    Midnight, and we’re still here
    in the privacy of our own
                   (shaking, sturdy)
    raised palms,
    with nothing left but dust.
    (Five, six, pick up sticks. Walk
    soft, be still.)
    He loves me
                 (loves me not).

    Soon, we shall banshee
    our un
    -forgiven hearts,
                                     tiny poems.


  20. Avatartaylor graham


    The road climbs into forest unearthly,
    a world beyond my scheduling constants.
    No other cars. Winding road flanked by pine,
    cedar – spectral, the trees’ cool breath in fog.

    A world beyond my scheduling constants.
    Off the logging spur I find a wide spot,
    stop; inhale green; become the silent woods.

    No other cars. Winding road flanked by pine-
    dream. My dog orients her scent map, then
    looks back at me. Time to move along now.

    Cedar spectral, the trees’ cool breath in fog,
    we’re headed into forest, miracle
    without words; forgetting destinations.

  21. Avatarheadintheclouds87

    Remixed from Day 1’s poem: https://scribblingsofstu.wordpress.com/2018/11/01/2018-nov-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-1-the-little-things/

    The Little Things (Pantoum Remix)

    Little things bring greater joy
    Warming smiles burn brightly
    Precious days to enjoy
    As tiny feet dance lightly.

    Warming smiles burn brightly
    Laughter rings in the air
    As tiny feet dance lightly
    Contented and without a care.

    Laughter rings in the air
    The lonely cry no longer
    Contented and without a care
    Even in the throes of winter.

    The lonely cry no longer
    Precious days to enjoy
    Even in the throes of winter
    Little things bring greater joy.

  22. AvatarMET

    For the love of ordinary things…

    Fall’s cool crisp days,
    Tall trees against a blue sky,
    The winter’s night sky,
    Makes me yearn for walks with you,
    A pearl in my memory.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 29, 2018

  23. Avatarjennibrand

    You guys made me want to attempt a triolet. 🙂 I love the structure. But the poem is a downer.


    In fact, sometimes dreams do come true
    But only long enough to die
    Your heart breaks and you’re left confused
    “I thought sometimes dreams do come true”
    What once was life is now run through
    And it’s His will? That can’t be right!
    But, yes, sometimes dreams do come true
    Still only long enough to die

  24. Avatarconnielpeters

    Tomorrow’s Good Enough

    I wake up in the morning light
    With ambition and drive.
    So full of energy and pep,
    So glad to be alive.

    I make up my to-do list first
    And go about gung-ho.
    By afternoon, I feel the droop.
    Where’s my get-up-and-go?

    It’s jetted off to Jamaica.
    Goodbye! And off it went!
    And so my energy is gone
    Before my time is spent.

    And so I watch TV or read
    Or mess about online.
    And then I move the “didn’t dos.”
    Tomorrow will be fine.

  25. Avatarconnielpeters

    Waiting Out the Storm

    At times, my moods are sunny, blue and clear,
    But other times they’re stormy, dark and gray.
    I wish fine-weather moods would just stay here.
    At times, my moods are sunny, blue and clear.
    But certainly the storms will reappear.
    And then, in time, the clouds will go away.
    At times, my moods are sunny, blue and clear,
    But other times they’re stormy, dark and gray.

  26. AvatarMET

    Bravo to Me

    I worked twenty plus years
    Doing a job that I loved.
    I met people
    I would not have met
    If I had chosen another path.

    The pay was bad;
    The danger was real,
    The state cars stunk, but
    I loved it anyway.
    Plus, I gave away some cash.

    I wrote dictation
    That would have filled
    Many books;
    My fingers were sore, and
    I knew it was never done.

    I know I am not the only one
    Who has worked this impossible job.
    The award I won once
    Was for more than just me, for
    It validated us all.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 29, 2018

  27. AvatarAnthony94


    She gathers words
    tucks them into pockets
    corners with dusty threads

    of old conversations
    she’s laid out on the floor
    swirls them now with motes

    dancing in sunlight
    until they fall to the ground
    a kaleidoscope of stories

    studded with burnished memories
    echoing voices woven into melodies
    plucked from journeys without destinations

    (remix of 11-8 The Page)

  28. Avatarmadeline40

    My mood doesn’t shift.
    I sit here calm and lax
    like nothing matters at all,
    just moving my fingers
    On the keys
    wondering what will come out next.
    Whatever it is,
    it’s not a matter of life or death.
    Every once in a while
    I take a sip of my peppermint tea
    feeling its warmth going down
    inside me, while I look out
    at the rain-drenched
    giant bird of paradise leaves.
    It’s gray and damp today –
    perfect for a mood
    that doesn’t shift.

    (The first and last lines were taken from the Haiku I wrote yesterday about my mood.)

  29. AvatarNot-Only But-Also Riley

    Not really a remix, as much as it is a poem that just uses a couple of the same words, but that’s alright. It’s based around my earlier poem titled interlude. It is under the mood prompt.


    feel the world
    it keeps
    while you
    try to
    just once.
    feel the
    blat of
    a smooth
    and somber.

  30. Avatarconnielpeters

    Nature Teaches

    Sweet, fragrant lilacs, freshness after rain
    The earthy odor of crushed leaves of fall
    Tall pines singing their evocative call
    Soft gurgling, bubbling creeks that soothe the brain
    Loud cricket choir’s persistent refrain
    Bold, valiant mountains, the great ocean’s sprawl
    Tart, juicy pineapples delighting all
    Tremendous power of a hurricane

    It says in Romans One, the Lord declares
    His endless power, divine qualities
    And unseen traits through His created things
    His gentleness, compassion, strength and care
    His majesty, beauty and dignities.
    By loving nature, I learn to love my King

  31. AvatarMET

    The Ambitious Ones

    They were the Ambitious ones
    They wanted it all.
    She wanted a cat,
    Persian, Rex, or Russian Blue
    With the proper pedigree.
    He wanted a dog
    One to jog with him.
    They had two children
    Couldn’t decide
    On how to get a half child.
    They decided to stop at two.
    Their houses always got bigger
    To match the appropriate mortgage
    Of a person in their lifestyle.
    They lived well; they knew what they wanted.
    He had a woman on the side, and
    So, did she. They kept up a front.
    Appearance was everything.
    Their children were pushed
    To be only the best.
    Their daughter cut her wrists.
    The funeral was a drag.
    Their son had to be even better, and
    He was exactly that
    For the night he put a bullet
    In each of their heads
    He didn’t miss.
    He fed the dog and the cat
    Before he went on the run.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 29, 2018

  32. Avatarjulie e.

    (Attempting to remix my poem from day 1, Running Away, into the valiant effort of a sonnet.)

    Glorious Freedom

    There was no glory when she left
    a mad dash out her house’s door
    a house that had become bereft
    of safety hurt her to the core

    She was a flower dangling dust
    roots unsecure and plucked in haste
    tucked into spaces as she must
    no nook or cranny gone to waste

    But if she hadn’t been plucked so
    would she have ever come to see
    the fertile soil outside her door
    and just how renewed she could be?

    In reach of heaven’s brightest sun
    freedom to grow had been hard won.

  33. Avatark weber

    Without Christina

    All my blindspots
    came back. I can
    barely see Christina.
    I still look for Christina.

    Christina settled
    my internal arguments.
    We swam through
    the weight together.

    My veins are tired.
    I eat a banana.
    Christina is gone
    without breadcrumbs.

    I woke up worn down
    at three A.M, gasping.
    I see a shadow in the corner.
    It looks like Christina.

    **remix of the poem with the “I Can’t ______” title… just reused a lot of the words in new ways.

  34. Avatarjulie e.

    (For the remix, I took my poem from day 1, Running Away, and turned its 4 stanzas into 4 cinquains based loosely on the style of Adelaide Crapsey.)

    The Journey

    just a mad dash
    running away from home
    married woman out the front door.

    stuffed into nooks
    in homes of others like
    a flower plucked with dang’ling roots.

    sense of safety
    no hailstorm pelting down,
    my petals reaching for the light.

    unpack my bags
    water my drying roots
    and soak up peaceful warmth of sun.

  35. AvatarPat Walsh

    one strange knock (campaign remix)
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    some strange stranger
    from my town
    was knocking at my door
    like he meant
    to knock it down

    he knocked again
    and he rang the chime
    like he was
    on the run
    or had run out of time

    and it wasn’t until
    I opened the door
    that I found out
    what it was
    that he was running for

    going on and on
    he asked for my vote
    chewing over
    each and every word
    the silly old goat

    he said he’d rid the town
    of undesirable folk
    and make it clean
    as an egg
    without that nasty yolk

    civil as the rain I hovered
    like a cloud above the fog
    but when finally he left
    I wondered
    maybe I should get a dog

  36. AvatarRJ Clarken

    I Love Praise When Unqualified
    (An obnoxious remix on We All Need a Bit of Acclaim)

    “I love criticism just so long as it’s unqualified praise.” ~Noel Coward

    Constructiveness, I take in stride,
    but when you’re giving criticism
    make it full of witticism.
    I’ll often disregard the chide
    and scorn I simply can’t abide.
    Disdain is an unfiticism.
    I love praise when unqualified.

    Applause you should not ever hide.
    If you do, misfiticism
    is you. A tidbiticism
    to remember. It’s not implied:
    I love praise when unqualified.


  37. Avatartimphilippart

    Reworking of “Inscrutable” into a sonnet.

    Delicacies brought from an ancient land,
    are for lunch at the Chinese restaurant,
    perhaps down the street at an egg roll stand,
    how would Genghis deal with such an affront.

    noblest food reduced to mere Szechuan shrimp,
    with a cookie to let you know you’re done,
    an almond cookie with a marked crimp,
    conceals in cellophane doubtful fortune.

    two aphorisms hide in just one treat
    a packaging error of minor order,
    but the advice contained would reap defeat,
    when the contradictions sowed disorder.

    people shouted and harsh voices rumbled,
    but now we know how the cookie crumbled.

  38. Avatarscottasaigon


    Knowing this is not just another night
    The moment has come when things just might
    Change for the better, turning real
    Dreams of unity appeal
    Turn back the clock, re-think
    Draw back from the brink
    Breath in deeply
    Nod meekly
    And now
    See just how
    A consensus
    Might well just save us
    From silly, petty fears
    And our superior sneers
    Enough now of these divisions
    It’s time to make better decisions
    Our futures might indeed lie together
    Let’s face them with proud unity, whatever

  39. AvatarJanet Rice Carnahan

    THE OLD SALT OF THE SEA (a sonnet about salt)

    growing up on the coast, tastes of the sea
    hardly seemed the place to learn about life
    somedays were difficult, the waves and me
    running down through the sand, avoiding strife
    begging the surf to pound out my sadness
    the fog horn to blare out my anguished cries
    sunglasses, hat, hiding my hurtful mess
    staying gone so long, I saw a sunrise
    had I not turned to the quiet ocean
    to soothe my soul, calming my niggling fears
    I would have missed offers of devotion
    and his soft comfort, quieting my tears
    maybe just perfect timing, no one’s fault
    I remained forever, an old sea salt

  40. AvatarPowerUnit

    Night Flight to Brussels v2

    The night is coded in semaphores
    Her guts pried open, delivery
    Pending her aluminum false starts
    The African men stand, connections
    Missed, midnight over Greenland, lost time
    Contemplating curvatures of sleep
    An empire’s captured wind, hope renewed
    Your breakfast channeled on trays with smiles
    A bricked-in approach, almost floundering
    The land of electric graffiti
    You can smell waffles on their lapels


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