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The Mad Yak

 I am watching them churn the last milk they'll ever get
from me.
They are waiting for me to die; They want to make buttons out of my bones.
Where are my sisters and brothers? That tall monk there, loading my uncle, he has a new cap.
And that idiot student of his-- I never saw that muffler before.
Poor uncle, he lets them load him.
How sad he is, how tired! I wonder what they'll do with his bones? And that beautiful tail! How many shoelaces will they make of that!

Poem by Gregory Corso
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