Boox

	As for Nuremberg, suffice these 
decelerating bolas. To them the eyes capitulate, 
	the playthings. Comes off courtly, 
bookending tantamount with Spinoza and Chrysostom. 

	Dutiful, the stenographer's 
aerodynamic pitch of the forehead. Redoubtable, 
	the Lindisfarnes. Gauche, the latch 
obstructing puberty. The army's tired arms perpetuating 

	iconic youth movements. What to 
do with hangnecks, lurkabouts, petty clerks, wholesalers, 
	woozy janissaries, slingshot twirlers? 
Whose orb triplet thonged to a whipstock. In each 

	an Ignatius, a Barbarossa, resolutely 
reclasping one-of-a-kind codices. Said codices fudging 
	the Great War. A regime's collapse directly 
proportional to the slowing, tightening ring they describe. Naptime.
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