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The Acherontia Vase


I heard your song by the black Acheron

All salt-soaked and tugging on strings that at once

let rip heavy bellows and wimbering shrieks

Sure tore up them bellies of wander-lost freaks,

But I who cuts noses, clips ties and old cosys

Fared dance, drink and drown in that murkdrab of poseys.

Linoleum print

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