Tuesday, May 6, 2014

To Whom It May Concern Comments

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Your soul is a dead chicken lying on a city dump,
Inert and limp and sprawling,
Amid a rotten chaos of inassortable remnants,
Of rain-soaked whisky-cartons and soiled brassieres and worn-out tires and Sunday suits full of defunct moths
...
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Clark Ashton Smith
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