Hymn For John Dillinger

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he sat and listened to them talk, and he was full of doubt, again. shuttered up sitting down. overhead and back again they flew, these dragons fighting, for what he didn’t know. but they fought all that night, and their fiery breath burned the top of the mountain. it looked as a crown of fire, but nobody took much joy in it except him and he darted from place to place following the destruction the dragons fight had wrought upon the land, he hided he did, still at night and stiller by day, by the sick moons light and the suns last ray.

for the city in front of him he would leap in happiness and fly a little in joy to see it burn away, lost again in the smoke. it stunk of piss and he knew when she walked past them their hands would reach out and squeeze her tits and her ass and her cunt. she would like it, or she did, or would. but barbed wire always cuts in the most tender places and we hang like plastic bags in trees while they laugh.

to pull out all the stops and then what? sodden written lies in lines and able stops? they fought and the skies were red and he found he stopped caring and sat upon the rock at the top of the fiery mountain. he stopped and looked at the anger and the strain, the thousand yard stare and the hateful refrain, and he laughed and he cried and he shuffled his feet again, lost in the netherland and fucked off again. for we learn the best ways are to quiet and settle your hated glance, put it the fuck down right on the ground, walk off and let it go, walk away and forget the whole fucking show.

what is the burden of this? he asked. to sit upon the walls and survey the wooded valleys below, with the birds that fly and the animals within it, fresh, alive and green, so green, all greens alive. he looked to the south and the sun that would alight upon him and laughed. on the hills and mountain tops six golden beautiful angels given in love and understanding, in pure love and the depth of knowledge. what burden is this. and upon the top of the greatest among the mountains a golden tree grew and blessed it was. the sun shone upon it and it glowed. it shone into the valley and lit his face and he laughed. what burden is this?

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