outside of the lens
we are close to orgasm
but this is not you it is
five hedgegogs and a dream pixie
of whom one has no knowledge
Nazis walk here with their rhino trumpets
why didn't you buy me a
'there is nowhere to go'
that would have made sense
I'm trying with this gingerbread to make
jesus in a bucket
and the braying of Buddhism like giant cows
foghorns through the fog
lament of dead souls how they sound
sailing slowly through
the graveyard far out
beyond at sea
with one tiny eye
affixed
you know the rest
.
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