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Polka dot helicopters are the true music of the spheres.
The eyes of a tramp are only a substitute for a small part of the skin.
The eyes of a dragonfly are the sky itself.

A dream occupies just two square feet of the underworld.
Waves of holy pavement absorb juvenile doodles
here and there along with long-necked beasts.

I don’t steal ponds and lampposts anymore.
I smell catfish over railroad bridges,
eat light bulbs and drink tap water.

Meanwhile stones leave the country one by one,
raindrops evade the earth. Too old to be drunk,
martians die from the lack of void.

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