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Modern Pressure
by
Daniel Romano
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The name of every landlord is displayed out on the awning And the farmers in the amber fields were harmonized in yawning As the memory of the ghost hung at the exit And the city doctor called in feeling head sick All the freedom-founding fathers Altogether speak too soon The sounds that mutter underneath The glowing, Greek blue moon As tide rolls up beyond the walking trail So don't have the native[?] every mocking gale React to it at your leisure, modern pressure All the street were filled with carbon And a pack of trembling dogs The weather comes in from the east spills a Kremlin fog As they fill the holes of every open tomb In the factories of thirty broken looms The sky was open wide And it was pouring Civil War The body that you carry was comprised of simple lore Where the iceman at the cinema float[?] anagrams No no one could go past your little diaphrams The stillness of the change in weather, modern pressure That oasis sometimes lingers like a patch of blackened ice The sellers of the row tap[?] and locked and packed in twice Only names are what remain to label view Where I heard the praise of sex and table food Up beyond the sunrise waits another pounding storm Somewhere from the rubble sounds of nothing sounding[?] born At the zero grounds of future battle sites While the gods still fill our heads with satellites Take the seeds my holy thresher, modern pressure
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