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What fun to run to the BF Mulroon We are done putting in a young man in his home We run and weed in Fortune Bay, by Iceland It is done and we saw

We come and we go And it is the Cross of Partridge We came in 110 And we were barely alone

What great fun to slide to Erin Shore

I think and I weep and I am Ron and you What is known about Flair in air One to the deep One over the shore

One to many One with flowers In a day I prayed At rest

In madrigal day on a pose to be Mulroon I had clothes I had you I barely made it on time But Halifax Made me Erin Shore

Flight of Swissair (“Number One In Heaven”)

For Paul Mulrooney and his dedication to Heaven- 🇨🇮

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In the frozen mass of our poem We shared a sandwich and talked for hours Brother I am under a watchman And get naked with my cam It hurts to be in fear for Sobeys But I was thinking of Shornoway

And in that hut we destroyed islam And nothing else but running water So to blame the satan that is Mecca Who would elevate to the Rock of Ottawa

In favour for the biggest forest Which is mixed Which is Acadian Which is yours

And at the snowfall of Eurasia And our outer fortress of Macgarvey We said a prayer for our Mom And McDonalds stayed the antichrist

So goodbye to Main Street One Where people died for a ham And in the scarlet page of Rome We decided men were gay

An obvious thing about vlad But I am under the radar of Volga Which is sweet handstand of the rune And I am known to shower for days

For myself For that Volkswagen For Ulf the green

Shoeless in Antarctica

For Zay Harding- 💛

Flight 111 was pointed straight at my head And flew into my mind Everyone stalled- The seats burned for Yellow I evaded all that yesterday And flew up to my room; For a year and ten

And believed in Heaven instead

Here I am The awful horror And I am flight 111 And Harry must have bombed it And must have crashed it And must have stalled it- And threw it at Tantallon And crashed it at the lot- Right at Loblaws Without even knowing

And this is qanon

And the Witness said, Yes, it’s true Salad was even on sale that afternoon

And I said, is this true? And heard it was 666 So I said no, I reject this- Is it not armageddon to blame?

And this is the meaning of qanon And I rejected the hearse of my own And nothing but peace to Sandy Hook And Coles Island And the airport in Dublin

For Prince Harry- 💜

Way above the landing on our ground We ate plums and danced to Democracy And in our sounds of Nature There was poetry and power In Christ we had an ally And it is the written form For all of Signe’s dear Mom Who rains heaven to her And knows she is eloquent And entitled to a Lotus The green one that runs on her command In British style of ruin Was the theatre of Jeff But Signe won all of Asia And loves Antarctica and Maccabees Nothing but pyramids saw us Signe is well Is well In Christ,

For Dr. John Douglas Hall

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🧡🖤

Nothing of fortuitous ruin Across the ice cream parlour And I sat up for happenstance While they were weary I smiled and wept for rain The singing cart would cross And Earthen retort was hailed But to the Sussex butter And a Jeep that barely started Was mush of up the street And our lanterns spoke of nexten house And the dramatic Pope of unredemption Forbears to many And to Skip I remain Up to each one that I pray to We be sick of upkeep and wailing But the people emptied everywhere For drills to her And supposing the Sikh on time To be just as green as the shadow I wear Whose cousin across the tower To the bog of May and his rose Elevators of a ship and early Four faxes to the date And I, prowess, became A woman of time for faith Whose husband was barely John But never accused to Romaine Or hearts of the becausematic Who screwed in every lightbulb on time And shoved away the hearse For Morse to rhyme for day While sherry waits for her

We won We lost We had chances and scurvy There were things to behold Like Oregano and scallions And dust for a satellite Of a billion watered places

And seeing here but barely The ship rose to the occasion Of most colours on that flag While the curtain drew my rage

And I slept for cover While Jill was alone and prayed for every chancing Go get! There is champagne and musing Our dancing is done And glaciers in queue While Stockton waits away Nine days to retort And Hanlon’s Cross At the beget I had hoped for

To an Earth chime And a chair with ugly feet Who sat my acquaintance to a whisper While I read the days apoplectic But uncancered And just up the street It was our time In early day To be irate and unfold And best of the about

Her morning And best because The ruin was gone And to the beaches men went And wept early for the war Of each form The amount would wind A prose to day of violets And bags of Greece

To all remain In remembering a planet And unkempt because Never again

But stuck by night shadows Whose tale will play For then redemption In the lucky forest With ponds of heavenchance Begetting flowers for her For Susan Who won

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Calling Heaven

Be here In the recourse of where we are

Providence be

Like a provincial summons In a studio To be home and honest

I am whole And it is rain For fortune’s field

The lucky war Against the cosmic draft For all that oil in transit

For the useless one I amount to Be it on the home field And a player of harmonics

But the odious lacquer That I placed on every card Was a disco to the commons

And I in high fever Had nothing to play for But a sonic weapon of freedom

So hailing the queen With an indigestion of flower And a podium for each hare

To behold like the May month

And be home on my horse With a willing play for a sonnet And running free to my door

I was in a werewolf costume And thinking of the others So removed my hat For it saluted the war

Which was worse My dream or its veer And my only promise

Was a return to yesterday But abandoning no sails For the watch that would pass

Was a Scotland to Rome Whose pay for time And gay for yesterday So that we knew what was online

To behold the rose All four aces Who speak of the unfree And the cross of the kneeling

It’s a special spread In a springtime guard For the social award Of apprehension

But bending all spoons For a delivery day Is a bespoke kind of service And the Espoo whales became well

So into the Bothic And because of that rhyme For every inch of powder To be rhythmic for water

And noted for Benny Who was drilling for the Swede Who kept digging for treasure In Auld Lang Syne and its horse

Be merry But be well And love one another And take off with ruin When it suits your friend on his day

And your enemy is well When you are on your last prose For the woman you became At the podium of course

For the clash of all moons That orbit each day With gravitating sun And to heaven for all

So that Christ’s early Peter Would shine for China in Rome That bedded the voice Of the wine and the heart

And less for the shooting Of a remand to that whale Who knew what of Sussex To swim for a boy

Who sat here Who knew That to be down on one knee For Charing And the tube house For redemption Auld Lang Syne

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At Pratt & Whitney Men were adjusted And for believing no-one But friends of the wing And six times as cute As a newborn kitten Were the Swedes- Who blessed Hall- And the moon wept for freedom

Too many bad days, But in the Register, We won, And rejoiced for the Narrows

And rejected the reign- of islam it was hell- And we were born unto Christ- And protected the vulnerable…

(“All That She Wants” by Ace of Base)

I was psycho and your best friend And the dishes we cerebrated wirelessly; I came- here in the washroom While April delivered new swimwear

Apostasy in the clouds, Himmler wore nothing but a clock And sixty cycles for Ibogaine Were touched, Truced, And tossed out the windows Upon the first notice of a parked car, I swore it was time to move on

But in Sweden, Where All That She Wants is- code- For not getting rid of friends, We slipped into our famous blue raincoat And evaporated others- And our own money.

It was the popular thing to do- To hit on a friend,- Regardless of cost

And I learned- To be faithful through other men And their instances of knowing why urine is not the best paint I was wetlessly dry And slipped out of my own bare feet

On USS Zay- The boyfriend artists, Paul began feeling sad for the cost of armageddon But nobody tried like Björk- And her cousin Amanda

So that each set of glowing computers would end up in Ireland We prayed for our forest while men cut it down And bulldozed our own FACT Team Which was something like The Price Is Written

Except that I wept For surfactants And asphalt And earplugs For a friend

—Jeffery

I was fortune And at the door There were three clocks And one for time Through in the stare At the hour of three And in a camera To the shoe store And walking back Up each new hill For solid time In my way And harkening back To a newer year Of in the state Where we login And fuse

So that working the hour Of the early clock And its partner What I wear Its partner The first yesteryear Was a thing beknown To the woman Whose perkeep and way For brethren time And me

Solidly asking For what was at bay So that Roskilde Would hurry There was frost And an aside To the hurry moss Of Saint Peter Who prayed for peace In each star Especially here At state

For the wonderweek To bekeep that I am In hurrying shawl To the huge And every woman Who carried a poem As her own As her mother And in the wooden housemate Owning no lantern Solid between But going sore To the outhouse Of upstairs And each ear To dare for our women So that the guesthouse For his layman Would hit that year And the other

(No Water At War)

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Of the place I became Which was sundown in Iowa And everything happened Hey her they them he I we everyone Everyone ran for the invega Except get lost Ranbaxy I am thirty degrees in distress There were chemical wars And problems downtown East Afghanistan heard Norway And there was sudden peace Everyone sat praying Birds flew in overdrive And the chutney I made In Sweden Also prayed for Doug Hall Who saved thirty thousand lives Without daring to ask why Because, sir I am guilty of Norway And its vast birch wealth That retained water and weariness And used up most of the smoke That came from the rune I found at my side

More, more, more Playing with diesel was the getaway car Except it went nowhere But to soviet ruin So I prayed for the Finns They too knew what was wrong -it was yesteryear -my phone was still working -I am still in existence for sweating at noon

So I gardened And prayed for wet rain Then shadows came And lucifer disappeared

Amanda is here I put on my clothes And stopped absconding to war The gun was retired For many doorknobs at arc (These were made in Afghanistan) And poppies flew Never again