***
Stuffed text number 1
We
are the hallowed men
we
are the duff-head men
keen
to gather
head
peace filed in row. Alas!
Hours
drive choices, where
the
will-o'-the-wisps are
quaint
mien and our lenses
shield
us, behind chipped
glasses,
while gloves don't fit
in
with other laces,
sheep
without norm, shirts without collar,
in
a para-lizard farce, just an urgent notion;
on
the snow that crusts
we
draw reptiles, too deaf fathers keen on
remembrance
– in fact, all note us lost,
violence
howls against
us,
hallowed men
duff-head
men.
