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Ramming my head into the post
The warm metallic taste of copper
A liquid penny on my tongue
Buys me a ticket to a light show
Which transforms the moss
Into the beard of a jovial god
Smiling at my mortal misfortune
“Cry, Bahooooom, Harooooom!
From Your Scattered Blood
The Hosts of Spring Arise!”
I am late for lunch.
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