"It would be absurd to pretend that we are more than intermittently conscious of the poet's meaning."
Goblin nib in nil bog.
"For whom do we scrape our tribute of pain..."
"the joy of unfolding my shining"
dwell in a dwale blizzard
this sad moribund mall
roadworked mark
our revered video store
now labelled For Lease--
vampire-lynched
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