Today, by the lake, toad meets frog. Today, grasping the last chlorophyll, dawn readies a set of instances. Today, just after the hour of reading dark, sky plummets to another news.
A hand in the world lifts the saddest of occasions. Children practice their element in a version called Republican Hunger. That’s the cracking you hear, rhythmic and imposing. It’s the geyser on television that finishes sentences. It’s the practice of relearning the dead names for riot act. It is the pause before the smile.
Fracking the heart of tension, toad and frog, toad and frog. Bo Diddley sits by the side of the rode, suitcase in his hand.
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