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A Stein Poem

April 1, 2011

Every one is an egg.

Every one is an egg.
A history of consequence.
Something that was coming then.
A place made which they went.

They can call that expression.
To begin again then within.
There is no place to put them.
This pressure is an egg.

Some then have some thing come in.
There is no reason why this is.
It is rose and remainder.
No longer a result.

There can be rain and cotton.
This shows an imagination.
Feeling or for it composed.
This is the use of that.

Can you wish me to see it.
Can you find me in my knowing.
There is no reason for this.
This thing in expression.

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Composed with Gnoetry 0.2 and the gertbot base nature texts (Gertrude Stein Selections)

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