Start it with a little scratch. Dig deep, shovel, and scoop. For it will flow from you. It will meet them, who will drink from it. They will spit your poison, sifted or mudded, they will make you ashamed. They are the birds, the flowers, the pigs, the frogs, the fish and the stones; the high, the shallow, the deep; the soaring, the floating, the flowing, the still; the inspired, the worthless, the hopeless… What would the killer of good know?

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