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Published on Apr 8, 2009
"See the smoke from your kiln, pine boughs burn the bricks dead hard in their fog as I stand cold with my back broke by the bog. Find your cross-cut saw, come blunt and jagged dry and try cut my tongue out to keep on your wall up high. I tipped my toe on the bamboo strip; I took stone honey in exchange for my rags. Don't dare paint your board moonlight white. Go dangle your fish hook out in the gutter again."