Tag: combat
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Inner City Oldtime
Our own tongue throat stranger And failing to nourish will or may perish We pause, wishing to answer betters in Irish Cannot know a lost language Vanishes, we answer in English Less than swill of which our Liffey consists. What is Irishness What is native wit? Slack jaws guffawing Slenting houses built from haunted bricks…
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Lover’s Declaration III
Which Valhallite for more life would not stake All hours unlife’s estatial halls wineful gloried Who chooses stained glass immortality Over corn’s faintest Elysian brush Hasting wind making baled hay hiss Sand reforming in awe-ordered fist. Dead and so forever Flown through the arches Dark dress, mourners marching Blessed now, regardless Whether ripe-hearted or charmless.…