I
took to my father’s bicycle today,
to search for the sleeping Grandees
of Little England, those cadaverous
few, still mumbling articles of faith
in their deathless slumber, still
wondering why we cannot forgive.
to search for the sleeping Grandees
of Little England, those cadaverous
few, still mumbling articles of faith
in their deathless slumber, still
wondering why we cannot forgive.

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