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Brent Fuller

Have you quit nesting, questioning, skirting,
And three times?

Nary yet,
Since querying, young, blind eyes
Run rings to get the same as most desire
It homes
And climbs a doomsday spire.
Not forgiven and being still acquired.

I watch smoky, same ramparts speed
Covering greed
Storms, rage, and sanctimonious creed
Culminate in dregs of need

Will that you not come certainly
To champion this fossil castle

Till high-some grandiosity speak
And dignify this winsome pyre
Stooped in ignited embalming oil

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