Father I Rest My Head - Gord - Aspoet
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Gord

2019-08-23 07:46 am
Images of text, a thousand words,
Thousands absurd then bridges bend.
Curt be my pen atwixt their cloud,
Fountain of their dreams allowed,
Pounding coins, their dreams aloud
Outbursts blurred of Hitchen's hand.
Dreaming mountains with giant crowds,
Client crows, their giant demands.

Imagine a test, a thousand words,
Testing absurdly on a given text,
What word comes second, or last.

A mass, a mast, a caste aghast,
Rest snugly where water amassed.

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