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Apr 2013
Shoot at the Blue white,
Moon sprouting Nevada dry desert,
An eyelash of God on a Train falls,
Pedal to Pedal,
Sand dust to Beach love making,
God is on a Train,
Crossing Afghanistan's oil fields,
Backpacking thru rubble russian poverty streets,
The red pigeon,
Perched as a stone city Gargoyle,
Watches from,
Dilated pupils,
As April's blooming flowers,
Catch a winter cold,
Came by himself,
A jean'd pocket of melodic junk,
Hiding in Apartment whiskey bottles,
in broom stick cupboards,
in Vinyls,
That only play backwards,
And the boxelder is,
removed from my,
Iron rust tongue,
To fly,
What it ever chooses to do.
Written by
Savio  Kansas
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