Gut Master Of Lore Poem by Gut Master

Gut Master Of Lore



I walk around her.
She has presumed.
The court.
A poor mother.
No father.
No one can see chains.
Yes! No!
Your questions they are?
The point rises and falls.
With a wet thick plop, one
passes, to the left, right in.
She is the weakest link.

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Gut Master

Gut Master

In A Well Next Sprin
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