Category: Filí my pockets
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Fisher King
The wounded king emerges from a cave, leaning on a gnarled staff His steps like stones of queer effulgence tattoo with light earth’s face So that his graceful way might be easily traced or aped, at measured pace He walks all the way from the mountainous place to the marketplace He longs the exalted altar…
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Dogged onward
No practice breaking records Call this a new era, new chapter Get my news from Al Jazeera Get my views from scrying mirror Bagheera talking to me, Rudyard Kipling interspecies conversating If I spell checked your document don’t tell people we’re cooperating The docket’s dates and names are faked, doctored, Stalin’s operative Photoshopped out of it…