That was no clumsy crow that Roethke saw flap from a wasted tree . . . that bird was a harbinger of all of our tomorrows . . . away from wasted yesterdays into the tomorrow of our nodding, dreaming yawns . . . closer and closer into our self-satisfaction of perfect lawns and pickled gardens . . . out of our mind's eye back behind the brain of being . . .
September 26, 2017
Donald Trump, 2016 Messenger
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