Monday, February 22, 2010

Clay Eye

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Cyclops 298

The stinker’s point: in your bloody country be
A special eye
The dog that makes no excuses, has no alibi
But is honored for showing some dirty jesus
The assistant to his mistake;
Listen to his offence
Tell us where the border lies
The citizen hanged for having sight
Came round and growled at the wretched the
Private extinction the
Eaten bloom the
Point of mourning.

We wept at the hard beam
The light of heaven and left going forward
To murder the empty day.

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