| COLLAGE POEM
Tour Of The Collage |
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through volcanic mud; the boil of it whirls you to Mars where an artic fox slinks He is the only horizontal line, and he guards his position jealously. Above, around, the blue-green ice has formed and cracked, and formed again. On the top, the ice turns to spray and then ice once more. An eye rolls like a giant cog; and flying through, the ultimate carving, the soul of vertical.
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