For Breece DJ Pancake
Winter's a God damned thief.
There is nothing left of the farm
but skin and bones;
the white dust of first frosts,
twitching skeletal oaks,
and corn brought to its knees
begging for mercy.
Take your rifle
and storm the grey light.
Bring back death
slung over one shoulder
skinned, dressed, and ready
for skillet
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