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Each man in gitmo reproduces
where conception by infection
broods boils.

all boils burst into dust.
said dust dances on hurricanes top,
said cyclones’ rain absolutely un-slaking.

one knows not
where it shall stop,
only, certain
tis the war of next making.

only the dust therein knows
where it will reproduce;
where it shall seed;
where it, the dust
must beget more dust
and breed infant rivers of need.

say something nice ... or not

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