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Invocation, and a Sort of Lullaby
Jonathan Weinert
~
Pleistocene with borrowed heat,
their stock of seed already spent.
~
Go to sleep, my little dinosaur,
with no accounts or credits. Sleep,
while sleep alone is due. Soon
a frozen blanket will be pulled,
again. My little five-eighths Jew,
such doings mean as much to you
as Keno to a coelacanth. Sleep.
or stripe my knees to charm
obsequious(谄媚的) poetry, I'd sing
a wiser, more distinguished9 song.
My little mastodon, stay warm.
The agencies are everywhere, and cannot care.
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