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7.30.2004
I give myself a gift
of a barbarian cookie
for my birthday.
•
After the seemings of
jest, a jute of joi
de vivre cough soup.
•
A Libertarian
convention, stones
lobbed in the lobbey
of pastel gloom.
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The trees, an
aspect of cragomite
frame, a gloss.
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An appetite of
squelch Norway
repast sans coupon
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