What is the meaning of this 
string of syllables
if they will not give up 
their ghost
to the heavenly hell
that must categorize every bone?

How might made right
is no longer a matter
of inquiry,
and so when one takes 
two from three
it finds itself 
at the ledge 
of every maiden word.

Scurrilous! Atrocious! Garbage without
recourse to recursion!
Under this roof,
we burn the middle
when the ends are not
front and back covered.

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