American Jazz
Jails
Slaves
Waves at freedom
She at the door, too forgetful
Bothersome Invention war is
This is a far as a sound
As nearest minds kindly borrow
Works flat
And out the door
Slaves in jails
Forward my ship
On top and on back
Waters a ways to work
Laddles become hospitals
Without spoons
Only the together people
Lift down the cloths
Aprons run in country
We ain't had enough
Jails yet
This is beautiful
Your from that porcelain city
I'm New York poetry too
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