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from Shy Green Fields

Hugh Steinberg

Scribbles, a man lying face down in a pile.
He was a fool, he blessed the wrong son.

So then, chipped, a little sky. A wing, two.
A treaty against sinking would come in handy.

You won't make that mistake. That's the point,
it wasn't pointless, you make the old man float

so you won't see yourself in him.

Hugh Steinberg

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