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Of Our Cranial Love for the Lion (draft two)

We were reading toward Bethlehem suffice it to say we were tired elephants so we were reading toward Bethlehem looking for new streaks across the sky. We were reading toward Bethlehem with wet blankets and a mop looking for new insurrections suffice it to say religion stinks.
But really we were reading toward Bethlehem because we did not want the skin of the farmer
because we left doctor Sunday on the side of the road with a briefcase full of dead facts.

We were reading toward Bethlehem as part of a seminar on special problems for honest mystics.
We were reading toward Bethlehem with old texts. The old texts pointed toward Bethlehem.

Suffice it to say we were reading toward Bethlehem and our innocence drowned
suffice it to say we were reading toward Bethlehem and we fell apart
suffice it to say we loved the rocking rattle face goo goo ga ga wet beast moment.
Suffice it to say slouching.

We were reading toward Bethlehem slugging through old texts toward Bethlehem
with insurrections toward Bethlehem suffice it to say reading toward Bethlehem
in love with the lion.

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Another Ireland: Part Two
Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
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