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Tasting The Blue Gravel

Single transponder on the menu I saw A piece of Rome to remember In ways of platinum echoing by day The currency I saw was gold And in each of the sharing- for this equal hand in marriage There were deliverances in meaning and tone And in accordance with a summons to Derry The palace of migrations was here In a space for unwar And thinking that night, In peace, there was lecture And less of a Tory but him Who questioned the easings- and sighted the flock To Southern poess and merry A drink by the escapade And a right of many years The fools in a house- stand around for better days But we knew the beginning- and it counts. So according to the press, we are merry to be here And citing new clothes- for the agent In the mercury set, an observable pulse And the name and number was bitumen And we prayed it was the rent And seeking all shines to the beginning In this bathtub of secrets The East of us had less But deserving new warmth- was a job- for an importance of entry And his skill with a bar Magma and vitriol in that box But easy access to the hat- which explained how it happened A place to get lost in the town And I suffered the virtues Like having no idea And how to eat A supercross to the veering mercy that was Rome In presence we knew- In the Bible an end- To at least certain glances- upon men So certain of Dalhousie We were wondered by truce And in them a handle for the aprieved Bits of electric And a fortune for Wayne We knew how to webwatch And roll coins The lucky of this first As a newborn of rhyme A simple entrance to the heights For all mercy- And redemption Inescapable to the derelict and custom And to appoint the fantastical betrothe Heavens between and in Adam A locus to nerve And the redemptions of quan A pay check to show appens- and rue So inavoidably cousin And costs to depend on We slaughtered a chicken While we wept And left fighting As all creatures due For the simian And the forgotten And new clothes just in time It was hypocrisy and disorder All for Sun- The big Oslo And a pittance for the dedicated Apostasy in grace- on the line While rowing for cover, Seeking small shoals to heal And we spent our last cousin- on a nightflight, To Venus we rang And left our legs to adventure This certainty of health- was now free And a fashionable fact That certainty is good Except when it’s not For a forest in a bog To this country of Bread We are sunk to the aged- who we love- in admiration’s will And departments of sanity Echoes to the Steppe And adversa Remains of the fetus Telling redemptorists approaching To malfease what we know And in this day For murder and inception Of the tall glass of science Early seeking to the prophet- for due And when it rains, An economy of death Sun irving and redemptorists- and the poem.