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Tasting The Blue Gravel

Single transponder on the menu I saw
A piece of Rome to remember
In ways of platinum echoing by day
The currency I saw was gold
And in each of the sharing-
for this equal hand in marriage
There were deliverances in meaning and tone
And in accordance with a summons to Derry
The palace of migrations was here
In a space for unwar
And thinking that night,
In peace, there was lecture
And less of a Tory but him
Who questioned the easings-
and sighted the flock
To Southern poess and merry
A drink by the escapade
And a right of many years
The fools in a house-
stand around for better days
But we knew the beginning-
and it counts.
So according to the press,
we are merry to be here
And citing new clothes-
for the agent
In the mercury set,
an observable pulse
And the name and number was bitumen
And we prayed it was the rent
And seeking all shines to the beginning
In this bathtub of secrets
The East of us had less
But deserving new warmth-
was a job- for an importance of entry
And his skill with a bar
Magma and vitriol in that box
But easy access to the hat-
which explained how it happened
A place to get lost in the town
And I suffered the virtues
Like having no idea
And how to eat
A supercross to the veering mercy that was Rome
In presence we knew-
In the Bible an end-
To at least certain glances-
upon men
So certain of Dalhousie
We were wondered by truce
And in them a handle for the aprieved
Bits of electric
And a fortune for Wayne
We knew how to webwatch
And roll coins
The lucky of this first
As a newborn of rhyme
A simple entrance to the heights
For all mercy-
And redemption
Inescapable to the derelict and custom
And to appoint the fantastical betrothe
Heavens between and in Adam
A locus to nerve
And the redemptions of quan
A pay check to show appens-
and rue
So inavoidably cousin
And costs to depend on
We slaughtered a chicken
While we wept
And left fighting
As all creatures due
For the simian
And the forgotten
And new clothes just in time
It was hypocrisy and disorder
All for Sun-
The big Oslo
And a pittance for the dedicated
Apostasy in grace-
on the line
While rowing for cover,
Seeking small shoals to heal
And we spent our last cousin-
on a nightflight,
To Venus we rang
And left our legs to adventure
This certainty of health-
was now free
And a fashionable fact
That certainty is good
Except when it’s not
For a forest in a bog
To this country of Bread
We are sunk to the aged-
who we love-
in admiration’s will
And departments of sanity
Echoes to the Steppe
And adversa
Remains of the fetus
Telling redemptorists approaching
To malfease what we know
And in this day
For murder and inception
Of the tall glass of science
Early seeking to the prophet-
for due
And when it rains,
An economy of death
Sun irving and redemptorists-
and the poem.