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   …The 8.0pt;font-family:Garamond”> kite drifts away severing its thread cut to
infinity

Afar rushing kids vie for
the crashlanding pie outcry:

Cutting lo kite
cutting ho… cutting lo kite cutting ho

                                           .

Dawning amber sun

Raw smell of fresh green
crops in the erratic wind

At wee hours in the jute
field after a brawl over land

the unanimated jostling
bodies of youths lie

their bellies cut by one another’s
sharp sickles

Afar glide the unsin
children’s fie:

 …Cutting lo kite cutting ho… cutting lo
kite cutting ho

.

Yet the gypsy wind or the
playing brisk kids

do not cognize such much
hostile killture

They do not agnize the
fierce tactricks of the sly

So they jeer to cut to
trail after the kite to cheer

Afar veer & fly their
sheer hue & cry:

Cutting lo kite
cutting ho… cutting lo kite cutting ho

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