Thursday, February 26

A Bit of Dogerel

And under the stars
On a squinchy black night
We empty from bars
And make it seem slight.

It falls like scales
From our squinchy pale skin
Our teeth are like nails
It hurts to begin

We run through the streams
Through squinchy green grass
Our sin rolls in reams
We cry at this dras-

-tic
measure.

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