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When I take off my helmet

and the stories of my death

get reported to the

ends of the empire, I’ll know

that I was a danger to peace, the

peace that produced herod and the

kings of old.  I’ll take in the flowers at

the foot of the volcano.  they’ll tell me

to forget the

sea, then to forget the

land, then to forget

the land.  I’ll be amphibious

and then on fire,  I’ll have chillis

on my sword, then on my

toes.

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