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Drawing: Ballpoint Pen, Ink, Black & White, Paper on Paper.
In the corner of his resurrection,
I don't think Stanley Spencer has yet died.
Lying on his grave after a long night out,
in charge of his fate and unlike others has no hanging face.
Among the brown gowns, Spencer spent little on, His suit a sexy red,
His grave glows Ruby,
sauntering free flamboyance.
I was gone.