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a little of my blood
in the wild song of flight
because the bastards are coming for us
a little of me hiding
all this skin in the game
begin with the same story
… try to blend in
be tree
but wake up and the forest’s …
someone sent it up a chimney
an accent will give you away
as with pyjamas
read off a table of laws
took my pun
and love
my people and yours
the friendly tussle –
seasons and parting
like a violin run to the woods
to the garden
there just a moment
and always here before
saw through my head
bones of those thought to stay put
river for a song
the gods are prisoners of stone
having already suffered for sins
one could not yet have committed
there’s night and winter anyway
most of the blood in me
as
it turns out, well hidden
now
with the twenty six tin letters retired
ready to stand and fight
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