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Ben River
Yes says I, said he in the swelling sun,
Wise old child dancing naked in the parade,

With wide eyes in sleepy land, stroking hymns in the night,
Blessed crocodile teeth rolling out through the fumes,

His hands waving lights in the sea,
Through a neon lens he said yes to us all,

Yes to the traipsing bloom swirling news fodder
Painting the walls with colours in the deep