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frost property ( ytreporp storf )
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a yawn of fog & out the yard the daze is dark, the moon is starred as mountaineers we face the blear the puddles - rocks, the river's hard the grass is stone - a crunch is heard a groan of bone but not a bird is hymning in this misted dim us idiots are undeterred we slug a trudge - the dog & me as winters limbs are doddery when penguins prance & mammoths dance a rummage in frost property as poets squawk of summer's gold as circles churn - this song is old a frozen roam & then back home the kettle calls - it's fuckin' cold ...