Little donkey, my kicking mule.
That tamed the wisps of chill-born
Sparkling spite of temporal length.
Laying ; babe sleep warm, within,
the head-balls of refraction.
Little words, my kicking mule.
Speak spun spokes; through throat
Daggered fluency : Stings!
Oh, how it does its deeds
So clean, so mean , so often
Cough at me!
Oh do so cruel and
Proud!
Cough on me...
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