what we do with mother?
how much violence and even
still must suffer
for our hand
crying emaciated
is inevitable because the toll of life for life
here does not reach far
and cries
not run through the valley sides
you decades and mirrors and dip in the magma
intriguing but not vulgar
know to win your way in this new
ancestral origins
be a mother
fund world where
hours
who flap the tatters
Home
cleaver
with cured ham,
confused between piles
bodies
who digs and can not find
because the lack
robs the test
Giordan
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