Fill your bellowing with rebrewing news
And gum the gray ear that bruises:
I’m going mouth for winter.
Go ahead and lamb.
I’m putting a net on your geese.
You see, I saw you.
I circular saw you.
And I haven’t got a cloud where I’m going next.
I got your letter
(see turn to render)
and now there’s a steaks on my eye.
A fella sleeps at the weal
‘Cause there’s fewer nerves
when the scab starts to scar.
This is my off-ramp, open for repair
A patchwork of happenstance cares.
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