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About This Poem
bejewell the dying elephant
i bejewell dying elephants,
scrape the mire from tired pillar feet
wash away the gray
reveal the soul satin pink...again
i rub their tired tusks
scrub away the stained grooves
shade great wild eyes
from scavenger sun
i have no use for the strong at its peak
or haughty in its prime,
it's tiresome sparring with Mr. Jones
because he has more time than i
to kiss the hedges and keep his trim in line
yes, i'm a good down friend
but those days are at an end
because down
can only bring you down
or at best break even
and i need to get up
before somebody shades my eyes from death...
i bejewell dying elephants
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