THE though even the till and a fan? Are you a poet? No! Am I a
poet? No! Am I a poet? No! Am I a poet? No! but you eat that peach
like you watch the snow out of the wind... In this I've found, one
knee less skinned. Can take steel bars and make them bend. I longed
to vox the voder. Hear the silent rushing hum. thirteen
I mixed it all up in an Australian rug