A Rather Nice Poem About Bicycles and Green Jello

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The Union Forever does not much condone the artistry of poetry. It is a decadent and distant art. It is the last refuge of aristocrats and kulaks and people who stuff ballot boxes with rose petals. And yet–Once then and again, something crosses us like a shadow and we remember that not everything ever written down was emptiness. Most things but not all things.

The sun still comes out from behind the clouds, though rarely and only briefly.