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How to end the poem of a non-deflector:
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Everyday, confused in desperate poses,
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we played it one whole winter
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Nothing is essential.
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refuse to shut your ears
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each rusting leaf
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You must offer her what’s left
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fear of colour leaking from the heart; fear of internal avalanche; fear
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we’re in the time the sun produced , or out of time
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Adiós devil of rare delight
