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Speed Will Win

There’s a question lifeless in the snow
that was left
between two people who hardly felt it
going; there was a cannot
thrown by an infantryman right there
on Thursday
in Nagog Village to a news-seller’s boy
thrown jokingly
but caught by the fingertips and Lor!
he’s a champion; 
there have been rufflings in this water
Mister tells her conspiratorily
arrogant fish that he is; No, the young
man has returned for his little ask
windmilling his hands in the snowdrift
on his knees
Really the worst spectacle
more than just the children and other
men are vexing little hats watching it;
the clouds infer
no one will be excused from this scene
until the question has been recovered
or the man shoots himself; we will have
a secure house Mister
is pinching his chin somewhat cordially,
the young man or not so particularly so
is wrenched back in
to the indigenous population of his least
preferences, and WHAT he says
as if in furtherance of some useful claim
on earthly things WHAT WHAT WHAT
Posted 01/07/12
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