Victory drowning at the bottom of the pots
his breath of snow ; Far Far
successfully hit our eyelids closed as cases
funeral bells like old badly hurt
Winter is full of medals
flooded with words certain hair
charged voltage and
Zodiac Luce rings on ring fingers
filled with proclamations in their rotating
The world is sick of good manners so ungrateful
solemn aground at this time
lost in conjectures as blind Oh, how blind
musical Lost in his ankles
one of us says Vertigo
[John Steuart Curry lithograph, 1934 ]
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