On
...and the warnings rang strong
...and the cauldron wheezed
...and the magma lapped at strapping branches,
genetically equipped, with a passion,
for protecting the bulb
...and the poet rhymed on
...and the emperor, Nero, has resurfaced
...and the swinging, singing, stinging swarm
cycled back
...and the funk of it reached fecal proportions,
surpassing sweetness of rotting racoons
on the roadside
...and the poet rhymed on.
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