Behind our music we have
-have a paintbrush- for you-
an idea of rough grass too
long to mow with current
indications suggest that we
claim the prizes we are due.
Behold the drooping skin agape
and toes ajar and even the
geese are none the wiser for it. We
cannot let them see the
only way out Is in
an old blue glass jar, saved
by the gods of Olympus,
where you can see as far as you
know, it might take 'til dawn.
-finished 7/23/2018 8:36:41 PM PST
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