all the ways iron
is cast and wrought,
bought and bound;
oh . . .
how
the Age of Industry
must've
glittered with its
cutting cold sounds . . .
maybe how
that Bit in paul d's mouth
must've been
more poisonous
than any green
moccasin's sting
or any whiteman's
naturally
cocksure fist
even mine . . . oh . . . oh.
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