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Jun 2012
Cobra's breath
through yard iron teeth,
sullen swank and sway.

Shant no man stand
where WILL be loosed
till gait and gravity
sound pounding shoe.

Within no glass wall
to splinter and fly,
till distant point
seen with thine eye,

Pass behind
to settle in cell,
being recalled of fear
or a rainy day,

Casting visions
of a cruelest hell
of infinite symbol,
sound and smell.
Irving MacPherson
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