1.
All the whyle defers me framing time &
time again defers us thus 2 us. Likewise
Counting Bones on The Ground Dear Sir
would be retaining Byrd from being naught
but Willy while he sings, so while listening
were it not zero to either him or us
in flying
he'd have to have needed to make it so
or preconfigure us some shelters in the hyve.
In reverence truly i can but violate the song
that notwithstanding murmurs of a second
life collated stonecold to what your eye
and mine beholds after the fact, i.e. all
the while forging through forgetting time & us
as all the Public Secrets know but who am i?
0.
All the wild defers our framing space &
measuring again defers our that 2 this. Like
it or not death is our dominion's dark region
that undoes the choice from presentation.
Do we not scuttle hence from here
when you switch on the light? Is not
your lust our greatest fear? Do not
our lives so bodily decorated adhere
to breathing both (y)our implications? In
all the sympathy my devils generate
i cannot find an inch of meat that needs
to disagree with death but as it happens
none of the above is the case unless someone
orders Ludwig as you do us the birds to feed.
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