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Big Mr. Dinosaur
The whole world is your city
where once walked on every state island, all too sober prehistoric drama mavens and what is the mystery
of their golden teeth? Why these footprints these boney firemountain feet
pressing the world under their steam step by step, framed in lemongrass? And with every step
he is king for a day for an hour
for a second for a season
for a minute for a moment
Wherever he goes taking his kingdom with him turning it into the east into the west
into the past into the future
knocking down plans to build a better beast
to lay in state museums to give your dead bones to the living
We are glad you are Dead for if you are alive, we are Dead In silence, your growl
the sound of a big lonely country
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