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Published: 2010-08-05 10:45:47 +0000 UTC; Views: 171; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 1
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Description
The sheep are out to grazealone on the Turquoise Mountain
the rain will come this season
but all the sheep will be dead
I braid the girl's hair into plaits
The roof has been opened
the smoke no longer rising with the dawn
I don the wolf head clock
and grind the bone into powder
I buried the rest of her body
beneath the Turquoise Mountain