From no nowhere not near the sea on blue field flax the cemetery's absolutely solitary you and you and a third of a pound of bread for supper in the refectory where I would die of hunger if you--if soon--if on this unday--one undoing would be undone
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Now I Get It
Remember judge and you shall
For laughing in school, for being
Stupid and always wrong.
Penance like the scent of the sheep
Is slow O’ weary, its coat
A kind of fluff that goes up
In filament theory.
Your own life ahead follows you
Like a scientist posing as a shepherd.