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Moving On Once it was lamb's fleece and the fall. Once it was wedge of the eyelid and eyelid down to poison and sheer slumber, The flesh made flesh and the word. Now it's the crack in the porcelain stick, And midnight splashed on the 1st rocks and gone, The wafer of blood in its chalk robes, The bright nail of the east I usher my body toward. 151 ...

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