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IF IT SPITS
The tomorrow stares
from back of thiny sun stair
the greens perishes
as the warwind kisses their lips
and their hips
dancing to the hop of drying
no withering time
the dews drop
and the rain spits
the earth sings
the ground mourns as its crackling
pours out the centipedes
and begin again vomiting plants
its black wear a sign of what? joyous
as the earth and her offsprings cheer
and making the glasses hook
the dying greens will rise
if it spits
