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Wovenhand
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Last Fist
what are you about
say something secret
in an old order hush
trouble and suffering in a lovely rhythm
a homespun clapboard blackstrap thrush
devoted loyal
undertake the toil
beware of what come natural
undertake the spoil
in a fist
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it was cruel
and it came all too natural
as a younger child
a headstrong folklore strawrifle crutch
thresh a crop defiles
in a fist full of sand
it came natural in a fist
full of land
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