1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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