All the mountain ever wanted
stalls hardly beyond the climb.
Strike it like you know the difference
of plaintains; wherefore art
thou factory farms, where is thy
mechanical grass. Stay off the tracks.
The path has been beaten. Covering
a geyser with a fountain, it rains.
Creating the old again = creole. Creme
of some improbable Haiti, sugar-steeped
in brown-backed maiden-thieves.
The earth opens & it is filled
with nectar. Plasma and magma
ooey gooey, mallow in the fire.
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