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Short Course

 If horns make music, not just war crimes, the blare across countryside appoints soothing nervous world. 

Terremoto of acidie augments the daily ritual, the royal stuff, fat harvest, fat angels: wings of birds fly off. 

No one remains to incise cuneiform into slabs of wet clay. Towers have been chosen. coin de ciel abjection. Time and present tense such crocks, untrustworthy, hardly fair. 

A few words then, in the decent grey light, while we remain together, to gather.


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