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The Skull-Smasher Imagine their brains oozing wisdom on the skull-smasher's pen. Open season on all poet's with Jack K's photograph on their dormroom wall: Ginsberg's Howl poem scrawled in the stalls, where the undergrads shit: constipated, and grunting to let it out. Their so-called voice splashing in the pond: I mean, the toilet. The skull-smasher's pen, red like the blood of poets with shit for brains: those who do not question that which is killing them.
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