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John Beetle
Poems
Nov 2013
the sun, that sun, oh sun.
I gaze into the sun
and somehow it doesn't hurt the eyes.
I soon am the sun
drying out the grass
and the people dry up too.
I gaze into the sun
and it fascinates me the
turning colours in the circle
of fire.
prose
Written by
John Beetle
London On
(London On)
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