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34 kAli in The SAckler Wing Blue, blue—I’m staring at your images in a basement exhibit of miniatures its absence of windows makes me susceptible to the uncanny, and there you are fangs dripping belt of small skulls bobbing round your hips you trample the supine demon beneath invincible feet, cavorting glaring you wave your weapons the sharp discus the pointed trident the spear your buffalo-slaying lion smiles like Blake’s tiger Blissful mother sings the abject devotee who asks with all his soul to be eaten by you ...

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