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A Space CreatureThe night is like a cutA cut of my stringsIn the great puppet art Of my dreamsI stumble around in a dazeA daze in my metered mazeMy limbs againMy wooden dreamsMy trapping partsOf these puppet artsThese ties make meMy strings exceed meAs the puppeteerAs is meIn a paste of twineA chreographed lineIn dancing I would cutSuch that I as my dreams may dreamOf my great art of act of artI am a deformed muppetA broken trumpetA snipped string clings to my armIt is still It is the SutradharaThe holder of stringsThe marionetteLike the nightCold in the age of space flight
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