No thanks.
I don’t want to talk about ‘it’.
‘It’? F*cking ‘it’?
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it is your meaning perhaps it is lost to it...is it clear..it is dear..what a wonderful stanza of planes and where it hides them...it thinks you haves more of it in you...iip...do it again..it is great..thank you..iip
Oooh! I can imangine the catharsis, Sue, that the climax of your poem brought in, 'Your puerile insensitivity'! Well done!