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The tube lift mounts,
                                sap in a stem,
And blossoms its load,
                                   a black, untidy rose.

The fountain of the escalator
                              curls at the crest,
                                                   breaks and scatters
A winnow of men,
                           a sickle of dark spray.


Submitted by Stephen Fryer

Added: 2 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 27 May 2012 5:47 AM | Viewed: 2684 times

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