Pome: All The Art And All The Chortles
And all the fields and all the bars and all the roulette wheels of the world
All The Art And All The Chortles
all the art and all the chortles of the world
and people still feel poor;
burn new worlds on the soul;
her face: like all her best nights out happened the same time;
and you see the seasons turn in the meadow
summer to autumn
autumn to winter
winter to spring
spring to summer
light cascade the sepulchre
and you sit in the quiet of the church
in
the nave
and ruminate on Noah
and
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