why anne?
why not?
hang on:
who’s being sincere
on here?
stars appear,
night is here,
but their song
seems all wrong.
where did we go, right?
comprising the anti-poe-ee-tree of stanford myfoot, often in collaboration with miltons john i and ii, et. al. - together assuming the mantle of the neo-spasmodic rogue taxonomist poetics.
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