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A shell game of groans against the day 
again these tings they connote: slay
the dragon well good enough now
when you think of monks, chip
per the rabid in the noonsky
oh me oh my kitty pot pie
let us go now and pop up from stately pleasure dome
you and sly walk back through
before you could crawl
drag on these weary tropes: answer for the muir if
you would demure to
share this bench
with me
mith we
maybe aloe maybe so
surround your self with your future selves
rend tell me how it came to be sell me last, quell my past
unring what is sung up on
a ganglion DANCE
of fourmofo-cosmo hisseld: old granfad laid to rest,
he made the best of the wurst of intonations, resonant to the last rasp the end he foughttokeepbackagainst theremainsoftheclay for

i don't glow, she sighed dully.

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