Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.98

From Email:	Required Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:	Email Address Not Valid. Required
Subject	Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	The day of fire is coming, the thrush, will fly ablaze like a little sky rocket, the beetle will sink like a giant bulldozer, and at the breaking of the morning the houses will turn into oil and will in their tides of fire be a becoming and an ending, a red fan. What then, man in your easy chair, of the anointment of the sick, of the New Jerusalem? You will have to polish up the stars with Bab-o and find a new God as the earth empties out into the gnarled hands of the old redeemer.
	Type the characters you see in the picture Required