oh the hidden fission
of a thousand pannel magician fishing
or first hand dished out to drink stiff
orbiting crimson wrapped sticks
occasions for points and counterpoints
let this be that last warning before parting
bell tower lights smile empty eyed, simply
flied and spidered, they stand now but tomorrow
. not tomorrow, never can there be that if there is to day.
Of the many things I want, its a crane. I would
lift myself up heights and heights and luff
in the jet stream, ready set, being a pressure drop.
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