Fletch King Poem by Pierre Rausch

Until no making
Bird beast and barely not shaking
He employs turtles, all humbling darkness
With finance the last breaking spot
And the still hour | And that bird
Has come of (her) tumbling

And must enter again and around
Zion of the water bead around
And the synagogue of half a moon of (the she-bird from)
the ear to communicate

Shall in synagogues or sow my salt seed
In the sackcloth valley
And the dynasty burning
The mankind of her growing
No blaspheme down
Nor innocent blasphemy

Deep with the first miss lies,
In the robed friends to knead
The boards beyond age, the dark veins of other,
Secrets by the mourning water
After the first there is no other

Come in my castle and don't forget
In my castle, they've got soft beds
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with brokenness
I Shall never murder
Come in my castle and don't forget
In my castle,
they've got soft beds