Andrew Defredrico - 2020
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Of few be to the remnant, suffering of incarce
Fare of well become of you to the sound, appending
of from the lurcher upon shoulders scarce from
weight that blades so deep, shutter thine eyes
Saterace junip, bevel the well that holds
the river of sadness that slombers you fine
Brave be, men for sharing kept within,
held to hearts... Bleed from that river...
You fine, musty old hound