THIS POET CANNOT NOT THINK ABOUT IT

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This one is about spiritual homesickness

as soon as I lay them down it is not helpful for the working classes

This one is about a dumb show on a slow clock and this one

is directly related to their question about penis variations

in its normal state it hangs down lonely

This one is really on spot and this one refuses Dr. Phil

look over their knitting of little red squares of selfishness

This one echoes risk by taking the universe a part

one little red square at a time

This one is a dirty limerick and goes out to

ze zailors I’ve zomething to zell

This one seems to go well I started crying and it was tomorrow

if I were Leonard Cohen I would have died too

isn’t there a way to prevent all this terrible suffering?

only if they clap their hands and mean it yes