42
11.2.20
a frill of shone
week mottled
and again
a bow
in dish
and lap
cling
call the colours
say this that
and breezelessly abandoned in
rescued from still floating
the exercise of light
in pages just like this
from instrument to instrument
pointing for a knack
have a listen
take up
see your way around
fall as I sing
tell simply on
tin din
though not
deep knowing in
drift it
loll
yawn for
till trumpet take
I opus
buried in the fact
stone
my cup
and chorus
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