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A DRY SONATA I

Dry The hour is dry This rude soil Inconsummate air Lip and lung Dug and dung Rivers mouth and Lepers tongue All locked in Times Insipid bent All dry A word through you A voice through me The damp hour of our Damp youth Spent Dat hooded man, he chasin us What once was knowledge Becomes our vision What once was vision Becomes our hope.