Sandy Player


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  • Vizard Dhawan (6/12/2013 3:55:00 AM)

    you write beyond your ages
    a gifted talent

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Lynch

They lead him on,
Black wool lamb up the brown-green stepped hill
To the crookèd tree that
Bends with broken body.
The ghost silhouettes,
Illuminated hotly red by hatreds fire,
Stand around in circle,
Chanting out of sync.

[Hata Bildir]