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on a big red plain jack walks in a circle
searching his sight onto the ground he carries an axe in his right hand, with the shiny blade showing his sneer in the left hand he wears a pair of golden wings from the top of the feathers blood is pouring in the glasses beneath his feet suddenly, a curtain of laughs from the vanity box – women and men, eating gently from the big trough, built him a statue… *** jack on the plain – pats with black leather gloves the roots of a wing carefully planted in soil *** wind took away those orange leaves that hid jack’s bones jack!… the slaughterer is home
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