Those days alone in the smell!
Cry, scatter alone, a-lone!
Exclamation to exclamation!
Marching nights on whitenesses!
I have been caught out by words at deep mid-wicket!
Formation to formation
Yet still with deformity in the spinal chord
Another pig swoons in the water-cloak!
I am window-tight in a forest of pamphlets
All the funds of life
I will collect in the remainders...
Elected knee-caps in a democratic series of silences!
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