Moonlight will make you think
the streetcar is a toy.

Ask the elm tree for pears.

Burning for burning,
wound for wound, stripe for stripe.
With every neptune fix

a tumbler creams another
seahorse, blossom-fret,
the Blanche of Blanchett.

Greetings destroy the heart.

And now I am their song, things
too rich for me.

 

 

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