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LA | NY A Special Edition of The East Village
Untitled Clean I wish to be O, major or whatever. So that I must lapse into this disgusting tongue. Rogue is like tongue as is legend to bludgeon. Like bludgeon the legend kills us. At night the stars are scattering. A star is a point of light, longer perceived than aligned, at night. Rogue is like tongue in that both of them come into light as disgusting anatomy. But I do speak derisively and align myself with noon-day thrust-- to be naked or nude To be brightly lit in barnyard swoon.