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Oh, I won't starve
while there's the Bible
to make them feed me.
Try to help me
if you want trouble
or leave me alone—
that ends trouble.
The county physician
is a damned fool
and you
can go to hell!
You could have closed the door
when you came in;
do it when you go out.
I'm tired.
VIRTUE
Now? Why—
whirl-pools of
orange and purple flame
feather twists of chrome
on a green ground
funneling down upon
the steaming phallus-head
of the mad sun himself—
blackened crimson!
Now?
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