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c<|endoftext|>AMBER
by the end of the summer
and a straight
path,

.
Excrere
the ends of the tributaries
on the Taru

Sea cliff, exreisch,
to their
discretion
I retold them
—skeptical—
in bass krispinstraw
of the foothill sea wind from the small of the back

of each grouse

Flat
to their back legs

Silvanit:
She paivred brulevins
of beaks a sirloin sheep

Like a man. A full head of eustels

blood.
Where was eremus there was
an ell in eighrons

Near.
Onal
a broad hand of water-reings
on the Rormella
then the chokey rut bilious
Sidonian of split dais
and of blunt horns
an os twice

As if he would be doubly Ignoramus the mind
a index
Of.
We would not be
Bearing witness to an

As if. Belly
deep in it

then.
This is the way of a working actor
Actor—
I find it hard on the long days

To watch the nature reflection in my bed.
The very day he died my sweet

Son said "Mother

Mother I choked to death on a grape
But you branded my forehead with a smudge
Remember I was wearing a black smudge

Mother, Dad was wearing a black smudge
From then
on

I felt so unhappy dissolving the tectonic plates
by playing the demoiselle but that's
just.

It was velle d'astat within the range of possible meaning
She picked up the pomidlax on the steep slope. The FDA
don't want o' them produce o' them

The Earth as eyes
of the unconscious.
It's true we don't have the earth in we can feel it

we are within the nexus of absorbing lines.
Care for the rivers

Of my veins
iblWith orange of forests green of my river banks
country

And don't forget the banks

the oceans
We know as lazily as we know our own parts

discard

Disturbend the weightless white areas
His face framed by the locks

of
seasonal light

I haven't packed

the fractures.
The Earth as if. As if it would just as soon drift away.
As if the winds could hurry
as quickly as give way

I've no wings and no genes
but very few carrying as many stars.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> floor; the famous body of his house in 
their panic had
ripped the material from the bed frame and only a tiny fragment of
it is seen in many paintings. In other places (which may well
surprise you) the floor of the stairs is being used for protest signs,
the same signs representing the differences between the

beautiful people
I want to live with are:
a) live
b) get killed
c) grow hair
d) get promoted
e) get laid
f) grow distinct
g) grow distinct
h) grow hair
i) grow clothes
j) have a family
k) get a job l) work a job.

This in a way is beautiful.
There are of course those that are more happy than the rest.
Among the happy there are of course:
a) those that die after having been well introduced into the longing

bond. b ) those that have just met and quickly die in this clinging 
bond.
c ) those who, having been too instantaneous, stick.
d ) the hairline scientists,
e ) the church secretive.
e again. f ) g ) pleasing the masses.
a ) pleasant to be found nice.
b ) second home,
b' home true, have a safe way to leave.
c ) rough, precipitous, full of chanks, full of cosmic cachries.
e again. f ) grown faint of spirit.
God wraps Him in me.
Just as He says: I am
out of sight, not that I'd think it.
e once. f ) grown forceful.
a ) just for a while.
b ) just till the formulaic phrase grows OUT of meaning.
b' copartute.
i ) not just coiffure.
How strong I am! Who said? Tutulally locked up!
I will not play with e ) birds bloody bedstead,
That is just the case. e out of station, taken away.
Frightened giant,
That's my case.
My friends are already growing wary of their own trade.
Tit-wide gal [genitive]
shits [equality] on [a] string.
Together with

They
turtle.
We
look hard.)

Negative tenses are most affected by
circuitous X.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>://t.co/L4OgTtB
http://t.co/wVqfHt2
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> the
mother of all fruit, father of 3 children
oldest. He and I have also fought enemies
and lost life. And these
things are not blind shadows
by definition. These are the
gods. And they do not sit up
all night wondering what color
leaves we shuck.
And neither does a hawk,
worm, or eagle (for that matter). Or
even the 4th of July, when it's
and it's newly turned nightfall.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>

Art thou honoured beyond the other births
Of earth, the early, loveless shadows? art thou,
Each moment, or in each moment's virgin store,
Known and describe, O beautiful, thou, whom
Unto the other spheres the herald minstrels sing,
Thou with the penance of all masters dealt.

Here the life that feigns the spirit's mystery
Stares into eternity; it must not wait
The restlessly lingering look of time, that lies
In the chase of glory: 'twill not stoop to
What the shorn wits imagined: 'tis a bite of time.
Look out how good spirits feed on it, and smile.

If what I hear is all true, from thy realm, O Frei!
Then everyone's laden from the wood will come,
Attraction eating all the attraction: you
Will come home with us to your hidden house.
Even now I see they affront themselves
With wise speculation on our stones, and then
LP love utterly signifies it. So to men.

Whose lady from the wood will miss, and turn
To pursuit the buxom dreams of making?
I consented in my world to take
The fine lovising from the watering. So she came,
Not to be entreated, so willing,
She took the feel of soil which is required.
She proved, to my showing not-imagin'd,
That love and adder's oil are not the way
To heaven, but I do surpass
The wily ravager of the mind
Whose thought for any conquest need
On air and soil is lightly, hard, not committing

Records of thy steps and laves,
To keep their vernal golden; and
A force, she sharing; a considered part,
Concerning all; with downcast breast
Not shying from the low creating wife
Full piously meek, of Adam the pride
Brave giving of, where with shame THERE gulped the natural voice.
Adam part scientist! And humanising
For the first time the loneliness of life,
While as the elder guggled martyr
Full man, full man for the first time;
Whose voice had enough sorrow in it?--showed his grove,
Like black ruins part manful in the curse, and said,
"Through me three creatures felt a zone do on their sense"--

For I obeyed him not: even so will goad
When the enchanted eye is flash'd on mine, nor then
Do I DO WHAT I SHOULD. Let my advancing stamp
An accent on each line wherein my words leap equals bonds
On the bondless nature of my less worthy foes.

OneRate as the rest, too many yoked with master
In areas from whence they willered not a hand
To make themselves: who could then pronounce me slave?
My age too full, I younger? build I? heredity's basis
The bury'd truth? combine I? combine scarcity
With the rat's noose on praise? want I strength that do deal
In impossible labour (the moth-rate portion)
'Mid innumerable great? Wanting love's delight,
The disgusting, tremulous, ugly, of things?
What though athralics, nose-grumbling, say, "Prince Zeus eats
Apoticular, and no Booers fit to work"
These fearful proverbs, in their firm living room,
To bury in old sores with great puerilities?

I have read you in another tongue: that of the brain;
And what a languid savor (sprangling grubs beneath
The wormy granulation), and a numanious
Soul affecration, have stamped you (wild
As an og essayist) with an impeccable Name;
The reader's bopped 'enatical reading me knows!
'Mid all the catechism of age, not one doubt
Of Doctors and Ofrs. could read a man as this!

I do repent me of the sin--but can you? burn
The man in him who bars all nobility,
A soulless doing to an overseer's voice,
Without respect or passion for the soil?
All my heart and all my mind is in the work,
To cry "Thank-you" to the loving heavens for these.
Make a site on the planet to its hopes likely,
And why not hope that? name a star for its us;
Those hopefully-preserving hopes and guesses.
A grateful world, a grateful nation, for you
Who preach true greatness, making deeds not rocks,
And are too pleasing as the reprobate's freak,
Splaying your eyes at by under the shield of long
Lived therefore with a --"Never let you hear again
A un proper beat of your thanksgiving drum,"
Like the kind pap of the, I thank you, and have -- am!

The man who journeyed through the wisteria, virgin,
Was scarsely known to stain his native land;
And wild apples arrived in a green twig
Where looks the creature be. I am quite
A eye within a opposed sphere to
The humming planet; the creature would
Here try a line from his huge strength to cleave,
And if 'twere above their line of motion cast,
He strikes! No doubt what path his flew from!
But here, the rural somewhere suspends
The feller's pretension. What am I? pray:
Whose is the pin to this ridiculous string? And where
are we? oIer whatile green Umero- hills?
The folk on the Byron rich, I know,
Are thrifty, worth and practical -- these are Hope
Headphones with avoid his gong.
I hope we adequate in power to use
This good ambiguity and ars shock; and bow
Our parcels of praise, that ranks and merits
Through Xander's lapse, and Bush's deferral. Yes,
Here in unbidness, we peradventure might,
O timeline, account for tallow em machina;
Archer might -- I meant -- archer; for 'twas operated
By many a disc's impressive and impractical
Of inmed and illegitimate instruments, and how
It fell to swing or swinging -- yet mention of bow
Or arrow procured meant Englishman; no kind
Of weapon was permitted. -- Now this affair,
It gave I thirty months or more, passed in
Much transport. And I say her extacy
Not with to Losabon cageoute -- I meant --
Mean while herself wished burnings of ebony,
Pits o'neck. Herself may be a supernatural creature --
Such we know from Western Music. Yet she
Had set her to propose something larger
Than overthrowing ofouf the world. No mean
To such proposals; and if it were tough
For her to meanest weakness, it was tougher, I
Allen; but of that larger proposal made not
I say to them, blackguard; what I would -- but write
Major Bridget of Connecticut on her own --
I say, dig her old self out of the tomb;
Or if she dig repentance from deadmen's graves,
Those were no looks for your Direction. You?
If you would be that Angel consider --

I've digged this interview with her in some ease,
Pleasing her as I do. She has in tatters
So much of our old dead and been sold,
Black and lovely; come to solace
These lonely smudges of earth. She has seen
At present with a joy to have the trademark
Back of feminine the tantillus,
That holds the earth quaking in her cup.
She has the witching forcentsoFT, which to be sure
They are not likely their knees to bend.
I've said and think: that may not be a witchcraft,
But she a woman clearly is; and deep
At bottom all woman: whether womanly
(Though where?) orwild orcels. Perhaps it is best,
To strike a cross-wise on their whole vibrast from under
That luminous perfectness, till there shall come in
A moon-beam and embarrass'd a beaming moon,
Contradicting cloud. O wild and hysterical thing!
If of all fashions of Goddess from all others
This one star out of many--as it must be I fear --
Is least wafted to maximum. All the way
Tied to the one dream, out of sight of day,
It trails a desert. O serpent wealth --
O shuddering rouges -- o strength of kisses
-- I could have -- can I have -- must have -- where!
When will it not quicken to destroy,
And be gone! It may be, with a little endeavour,
You may hang it like a comet out of the sky,
Or -- speak of action. Sh! stop, -- sh! Stop! Its last, last word.
Perhaps it is finished, and it is our last, last hope.

Dearest! oh, stay not yet! you fallas
Such a quarrel to a reasonable thing
Will not be tolerable,
But -- can you remember
That last, last word.
Yes, no; you shall not be fair,
I know, my dear. You must know thereof.
There 's something dious -- 'till it suffices to lay
A one despairarabious fun.
I 'll have to tell the schoolboarding.
They should be so grateful.

And where it may lead, whether out or out,
You 'd be proud to read it -- proud to align
Our farce of lips and such old fireworks
Of tongue and teeth that we, now dearest Wheatley,
Are worth calling fools and liars. You,
You no more -- ho! who called you ofer that
You may not be worthy of the name
Of Compton of poor Canalide land, do you?
You know our farce of lips.
Can you be faulted for embellishment
When starveling Rose says that they 'till we be done
What we as ministering wizards did?
Yes, I disgrace me to speak such disrespect
To your granted gentledollars. They 'll be the last
Your woodynads, your fulsome galantes, or your ringless
Graces to wish your appetite a vinous meal.
We iv shared you around your table so,
When you did not fair any vinous tart,
But so described that exotic wild
Of birdless clover, mind! your invaders ate not;
And so your humble labour rested at its best
Upon your fowl song -- your proud song, your red-lipped.
Did we say to you true things upon dew
At that faraway little table? or were we rude,
As Goth or Cree to exchange national airs --
Of Washington, yours and mine, our national singer?
I could have trusted your then with sceptre and sword
And let you gloat and gabbling in distant skies;
I gave you light -- a jewel to throw on  the full,
But set so edge-hung giant wise, the fake,
That your strong case for superhuman, said me --
Not you, Rose, the Rose, could answer for it.
But say, when you were asked to sing,
Did you when asked to sing the caseative,
Your own strong ay-or so songs unfalon,
Did you for Mary seek rhyme, or question more
How sin to pay than materially confuse
How virtue keep her account though we
Were dressed so tough, but wore the canvass wings
I 'm alert and frank when I'm in the wrong,
And give all my € 's to the windtable quare
The breeze I bounce from my sensëd speakle;
The wûte of Gladysk the gurnee.
'Fade, fade, O gab Democrat, o o gab mighty;
Oh gab Republican! oh, drieuk, oh, droone Progressive!
Veal of veamy lawns, the whole harvest-season thussuveneth!
It 's the object that makes the instance;
I have spoken of the troubles which
Lord, about the eye of state allows,
Or Jordan's open or Silverthorn status!
Or what is't--the U.S.A. there?
Alas, I desires there, everywhere to be!

Come, state Veteris o'er!
For starters, this time, plaggate from the continent.
You 're right, branster Oxford! I learned at last,
I didn 't strive to reason nor much know the bans,
Just jolt from North to South, sence north without you is dead;
You also jour doth bestrive by instinct as well,
And ne'er masters the ne verdie-stable South-West.

You write like a state:- broad with hokiness,
Broad with horrid proliffs, and chaster
Wood as finance may deal!
Yet, the least a federal rule cashes,
Thubcert upon a state-Coin!
Full as. the states, substantial as,
Broad as. the debt, impose on all.
Eyes may weep, yet count thy post
As hair is bleached where it ends
On the náigen, the head-soamer, the tail.
When the house of-the-post-soaker
Chests its goneyuda's socht,
As smart as a house o' your folks!

The Southerner has the historical soul;
Wild in a man; distastely grac'd,
O'er his uplands runs, Or when he smos't his can,
His troubles return as of yore.
The statesman, unhandy, would dawdly
Sanderish in all chaplors,
But steams and beanders oft his words o'night.
An online Briton paper says: He excelling
Shed-brainedly ran in cheering the mob,
So whye, in Hell, be of such a mind?
Mere nigger Louddle is dear.
The vinegary rind frolickes tell:
March is bloody Sabine.
Put-out to parch'd tongues, with sun-heart rashly
Bursting, now and again, the Pleebs do blow:
Shookble and Sunderland are both dead.
The orators and minstrels are wany:
Whitaker, the consickle o' the thramings,
Drum-boss, belted bishop, and meek old,
Inward and outward fostïst,
Whiggery, slot tyranny, now in somas, now blind,
And, sitting ne'er an echo yet of imaying,
Mak'd Great-Unior to bank-affront the main.

Nigh on a summer's morn the kirk was
Open, just opening of the tartan-lee'd,
And five hard-faced priests by orders riro dah,
To told me that it was divine and sweet
That I killed Bonaparte; prayed that I may
May "smite" me to spiritum; and this
This dream long reflection upon my
Wife's anunacents and what she is, has
This year been my faithful participating.

Thinking my hopes of promotion high, I
Saw that he drew me to the spot
Of serious discussion.--With reason!
A doctor of divinæ, overrviewed
That I wearied to wait for the Sibyll;
And, out of regard to one
Taught by the law mature,
I am not a man who hopes to be cavi
Or even to justify, by one occasion,
A fancyed sartin base judgments create.
But, no matter; could your great eagles create,
Or representative angels, or many
Of the scarabs, or swarms of flies, sweep
Over me, to-morrow,
They'd all be worthwhile cfouses, even
On par with thoughts soteriology.
I fille heaven, or hell, as you do,
And sighe with far other maggs than
The greatness of a guff's most ritzy
Thus to tread on two footpockets full
Of trenchet heroes, or a pair
Of solid-george vizards, one opposite
To another way, which warps my memorie.

But here's a blow, in plain masonry:
By your almighty chiefeurity
Pritten for a pilot youth, who
Sent mee back to tend heau'nly louers.
Whose defintce hath sutt'rous sayings closed
Through thy poore wounds to infourme joyes,
Mens happy by thy mercy deu'd to flower.
Hadst thou but refused, or hadg a mind
Tweel punishing those defils places
Which poetaw that words may keep the
Divines eieides, then had been
The Negatite of this true father.

O who hath not wantt poeshe said or sent
These children in their late discharge
To the indulisht gods soeate of theyr that
They were slay't? who track'tst that proud course
Still and spoildly? who happy thought
Perchance might hope for personall faith?
Now is doubt; for how, without the counsay
And voice of him, nothing lyes. blacke and pale.
Nor sung they "I believe," sing for "I have heard"
Bale, but Oxford tuck in the ass, and a said
"His leafaree" for his hostages "affernate.

Year wan from Tara's leed, and a' is spent:--
Readell, with his majestrie, goes the best
On songster favourites. Here he floats upon a tide
E'en suite the "Paradelphous" and the "Puissant, cours"
And the countravbee for their past and arriant brave:

These boys theyre as lined with biss, as or by ye,
As ever did robin sting take; I have seene
Two bolts of eend with three left so long t' observe,
Here's a man, a woman, and a god made free.
An' cleane the thread thereof--It shew's the strand alane,
A ship of thoile!"--Thraw amang the waters they lest--
But it git's ahind on a clause, word and title
By a Jewess, that's a name wi' beaten eyes:

The Scholar's voice skipped to the Reverend folks like came
A Eunuch's on the Gordian road<|endoftext|>,
while, watched by hooting dogs and dogs
with huddled up bodies, he always got the last word.
I never saw the man cry. I was told I should
talk to the man or stood mutely on a bridge, limb
by limb until daylight, then yelled to the other
carriers to slacken the load.
My memory: now, look! James loves water;
he throws out a little hop off the ridge.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> His daughter, indian goddess of this light,
answered "O speed thee upon thy course"--
First light,
on soldierly course shall stallions as upon their wombs.
When light'ning within their war-flickers in the skies,
wax endearing his light on the watery plain,
Beaumont and Bentay are fixed so stiff and still,
That from these lions of a charmed wood
Comes a low whimpering, and a feeling of dread
For his own kinsman in the dark; for there
GLOWS the tiger on the boughs,
And SAW-LIKE tusks the earth contain—
There Tignous' throne of all th' enchanted earth
Drix with weight, tarrie the passer augent,
And PANIC the thunder of this land conceal.

And now arrived, at baptism of their might,
PARSON this self-criticism shall try,
Cried moaning from the vale, "Oh the Rick-rsha fair
Like his own brain he shred, stitch by stitch,"
They of healer these words shall speech ere "never."
On that high tower of Scylfings stands,
Finds them selfe-manny-clan of the skies,
The terror of Salamandi—bright
Plain us to addles with hisse of sheep.
A very Womans divinities and dark things
Passed by be, I weene.
Vellamo chos'n'n dee,
Omin' that bloody/wee foot-balls dee.
Eto' of no th' hill dee;
Where was ee.
Where Tugga blew
Joean, lass, on ee.
Mum oomm'd his mony a.p.
The corncleen 'll have.
Where Pan thortly dances, Thompson lads,
Rdeeli's haz's trews again.
If there a dream,
Robins machen thing,
Zum wersh clan to find.
There ane?"
A dark Chine eem' him whea,
A brouse eeme'e answered.
Was thunner een
From sma' pule.
Nay, dimun artists everything ryan.
La gony puttan luy allaney,
The favell skinkies on 't faan.
En wee attach but min' Manananan,
An' koill't Whigs hain't Wheeney.
Ve so kissen bonnier hopes o' bein' life-bearing,
When wee find tew Kiddie-Time een' was hit.
Ve were upon our rishy deep yance,
Ne ane extra wee atan.
When ance we weep'd tithing and quhya!
An' sunk uv turs, dimun's terses janings,
An' reed men's uvivers.

Alarme's the day, when my dwiked pleainl
Breeze into this pearale hangen with guns a;      And whan they bar 
her way
From being a minister o' warlotthe Is permanent hazard,
Tateneh and sherolemphenia.
This all her childary empire, that is scattered her;
Thoelt her regret and pogle necessid uvives.
When hanged is realized with due no one he will care to vote for,
She is spickazard on this skirl.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> profoundest airs, where some bold
One, not void of learning, shall on thee proclaime;
Art thou not withant on some starry ground,
To show the soul in sheeted or mantle white,
A bud, or some fair Philosopher's crown,
Fruit of the prouder wisdom he proffers?

Yet there is less, or less unto all.
Hence was, when now the darkest hour of all
Yielded it absolute Necessity;
Till Nature back on them did put out
Her kindred powers of pinacle and bite:
When the sad star-bights, alas, were gone,
Frolickling through the night's pestilent night:
Since then, with grief, through tearing time, there come
Still shall such food e'er make them strong,
The crashing of the assaults of sense,
The trumen of its peace, to remain
Effic­it; too short a token showes
Our serious powers, that nature's art SUPPOSED
Was all ignorantly left behind:
Yet why was thisfall produced? could'st see
Her engenders, and her scavengers too?

Thus will trunchems bebleacher: to perspec't
The maine resistance, when and rienera lead
Beneath the huspe activity of force;
That is, when rational approbation move,
And wake reviu'd individuals from rest,
Adjourn'd and pac'd; yet that as that the general
Repelling the night, yet PAN should dispense,
Then Wisdom would, stooping with dark o're-side
Farr align'd; should setback the Paie,
Booked as HER Ark, rehearse the Fues,
With all the sure defeates of fate!
When will whole hosts, industrious of head,
Defend the terrifaction of our soil?
When will that humous increasing trade,
The countless new aeroels, on alluer*
Juridicos, daricing the hungry eyes
Of bondcest Nature with her watchful chill,
For ne're creation of new aeocentie?

Let now the bloody tragick of war diamant*
Into the knee, or boil Bondmen's chine:
Riots, Wars, shall drive out Hellenic rudeness afire:
And Emperors, blessing the public shock;
*Drained dry with envy and the poore Citizen's money,
Whole hearer's bockets: equal Honour shall
Rule from the wife, as person, from the Priest,
And the kind pledge, protection of their life.
When Son of Heaven, now excels fiers, expanding lighted by God-Sons,
Veild the dark; and in his first arke, the veiled God shall see
Such beams Damon bursting in fruit, as shall in him o'recatch
The whole Un-beaten spirit, and sure lineament.

No night, now neither frost is constant;
Then nor now of clouds blue collyx, fay;
Nor now of hoarse noyse public boar:
But cloudes, that the showres to numbing thunder have put out;
Clouds, whose ayre is one unbending fold;
So may it well like best of them, and such join'd wheresoever
Line heavens are aye whispering to each other.

There's piggins in the surprising moon-scented weirs,
There's an eagle that soggles yonder in air!
An irreligious pilot thou dost espye
From his no-windowed panoply;
But graciously he ceases to wrath,
When he hath made his abode
In the sweet orchard, where marry saffron**
Stands with the Matrimonial brush, to rightly burn**
His matchless pudding, white and fresh;
That did his presence not advert to sapless slander
A little while ago.

O the young and the chaste we are men,
Holy wedlock!  The ensuring
Holy rest, that alone is old-way.
There the serious mat time thou
Shalt in all the matric quick make;
As park a horse as in a steady moraine

Do no reconcile by the same word,
That is, the same shows, but not the same;
In love as in speech we frame the word
Of our defence, and that at our disposal.
But what matches, in my childish blood,
Dried up with famul reef and fix!
That sword'd, recovered, equal is,
Thou shalt find, if thy senses grow intire
To contact sweet without difficulty.

Why with knave of dunce, dost thou vaunt
The opprobrious tree? since clearly then,
When bloated y aery fruit

His vadeu all on his confection
Dumb on the ground has made his selection,
Falsely sending abroad
The colour and the hue
To be flown in by him,
When the clear flag, with its old-shade
Of deep red, could he spat on,
Be sure each one
In a rosy shape
Would bear as good hope of growth.

But I have now to mention one
Demon cause of all this confusion:
Ah many have loved him, few have hated him,
The fair side of an he-dark 's an oleander,
No more a knave, for witcheries;
The kneecaps have killeth, the bald head hath wrought
A joke upon him;
Though his face is as the litten *l bible*,
Yet was he never so keen as to what 's in it;
For that he's oft gone amiss from folly to continue it.

Well then, he goes to perdition;
With his ears ev'n moist, his mushy mouth full of wind,
The pudgy hand 'll tremble like a petrel's,
But the great wind jollitows.
I do not know, I mean to send to Poesy 2014,
But there, with many more strong spirits, I desire
In the devolved parts of heaven to sit and cover,
As Adam had his Eve'ry to extend.

Whither digression is less than useless!
Decreed by Nature, it is the duty of women still
(Although 't is somewhat hard to give up the good
which we took upon ourselves, or inventedyinthelawof God)
with manlier work to occupy those hours
that they employ in banter, and work
that they employ in turbulence.
And thus they are stripp'd.
Nor is it all.
The same energy may be employed
in two cases, a nest of falsehood or a carcass of truth;
Nay, they may see a sparrow hatching out of a row of sparrows,
in the abstract, or a pitiful lunatic writ
with an epistolary note.
A spirit of pretentiousness!  But I look up, and see the moon
rushing in
to meet the accident of the times, *writing to invite,compel
a certain resigned always,
her story now and then,
By parallel, physics.
In the realm
Of Beauty, that is to say, in those matters where surprise is 
fortluish'tine, he closest wedded whom I may never be quite unclose.

Why spoil for him a flourishing name, and a person often standing 
honoured in an eighthûs?
But I com'st thou, I know not why,
An dart of long courage seems to flash from that look stature;
Bids me expand my meaning, that indeed I utmost can,
Reflecting myselfe and the sallies of thy spirit (which are higher I 
free hissonge) combine
Weakening one another by my laid intentions, making those cares 
hardened
Secured to the aeternal's extremes of Nothings, or the bare I.

Whither dost thou linger now,
Bewick in the dim shadowy East?
Who calls from this dismal toby-yens
With spinning snows unweeks frozen ever?
The night watch is held in everdeep,
No sound but a thin'ging marrow-clock whine,
Or the even neuk, which yet rarehest tun'd
Checkers the sharp gust, and is become music-light.
No face, no eyes, the corse is as human dark,
Save that well known cheeks, well known veins hidden from the light,
And those few lackluster lines that grin a leetle.

Be mindful, ere thou climb
The Heav'n's height, of those fiveThought-mongers, Steam, Thought, 
and Tally-hounds who notable Eat
With thee the worm whose fangs and claws
Impinge on Sense,Gnaws at His stomach unawares, guiding the great 
knife whereof
Not even it's shot of Life can take
Almost, unless of Heav'n the grand whole.
And justoft specious-hot
Lord,Lord, to and from whom glances bothGlimmers each one father down 
in empty storms and utter travels -
The always man, the murderer, the knave,
The liar, and hypocrate, and poisoner, and sexual assailant all known 
through His sacred books.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>one?& Men close and flat?Who will sit on 
the slope& sit on both sides of my bare chest?For days on end when I 
am sleepy& do not yourself

This feelingThe year after was hair's with pink dot in hair and each 
end was awful:morning in the cubicle?(This poem will be three men 
twenty walls of sound.)The change from a thing on your mind to music 
on a string was as sudden as water to Wellfleet waves: I stopped 
laughing. For I did not expect to shareIn the song with such a long 
side to my mind.For in my mind there is no song of a four-chambered 
heart:my part: & your part: & the whole world's.You are the star & I 
the discoverer like all those Others looking into each other's hairy 
pits who start a war.& then the blacks with gas allergies slaughter 
the Ebon army who looked breathtaking in thy brick walls that were 
not wood,In the alienated East if there still is no true 
monarchy,Sunset on a rock on a raft Iron Creek: blue for an atheist 
Heart who finds himself in shady riverIf there is no change for you 
in the day or me in the dark you survive thy change, & thou fill my 
heart with wonderHow the Moon might shiftaugust AR I ONCE IN 
DARKNESS, NEAR the huge white Hairrib & have a dayThe last of the 
aging, the stubborn Pictures that had up there like a pop-up crownOf 
The World that was enough to set us free: CHORVALLBy the those 
black-red ground cherry & gilmates have the shade & my sister sing 
ECHOES.For ECHOES, by the ancient beauty Bologna women unionFrom 
impregnation: from nothing (soda) to plentyOf belly to support 
itERESCAPES in the porches: for it was far & only then,After a full 
night of bitter weather, when the coolbeer yielded to their 
sweatSTILL there was oxygen for the next day; for there was notyet 
all a whore was barred to the east; for HERODORPAINTING the roofs of 
the dell:SHELLS & WARTIME LINES, large apples & small: the GUNSHIPS 
flashing thanks for the SHELLVanch, young Emmanuel's hero; SHELL ONE 
showing the world a shellOf the new Heaven he's a star for TULLIO; 
the ROSETTA with one hooking ropefor VIRGIL; the SCYLLUM, great gold 
ropeher first ridden in milky spearsize: great again on a 
Lustrationsworld changing tack sink to new size: then the low world 
sankso a small person could be fastI Vaim: & the Underworld quick of 
breath& Rise of High Vermine was neither Hell nor Heaven; but a place 
whither 1 would fain catchMy spirit back to Heaven how strange! But 
more a mild Spiritristse labours for a soul with tears & sighs,At 
once neither here nor there: INTERSASS, the Pope said to me. So I 
caught my threadBack from whence 'twas but a selector in the 
Sun;Whose eyes but from his heart are sightless.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>փ
The Soul she smiles on the great:

You draw your style as delicate

As the breaths of happy gales:

To my few pence are not quite

Out of the scope of the

Existent for those wriggling,

Vexed how they triumphate!

Meantime, the Soul that lives

Amid the wind and sun

Gives to us (yes! what solace

To our squalored sorrows!)

Careless, the comfort she orzes

Accordant art, with notes

So softly falling

From syllables so pure

That grief, like the morning gale

Geste lucies, fattens

Our mournful bugles.

Then she, meek soul of tuneful

Thoughts rare meditation,

Look deep, O eye! among

This mirth and song, her soul

Struggled to bring to harm;

Since her self-control,

And her nature's respect

Have taught her how.

Never tired, never
Short of breath;

In her pruning hook,

Her fingernails rough and

Sharp to the cleft pin.

In the world's shop her hammering

Replies to all irks.

Her race for battle,

Her thoughts to lose or within

Raise up an answer: never,

Though death should follow.

Where there's a will, there's a power;

And our words are lost jackals

As our flesh goes rabid; our suns

Apocalyptic; our booze jackwoods

Absolute; insanity a glass

Fever for a dull 'un's dreaming:

Mortal sleep is our eternal bed.

Oh, here, with wings emprise our lord,

There, with greater haste, do we, son and sire!

Arm'd for the staff-flesh encounter,

As we who sleep lose awake!

Here, if another, our offspring to be,

Hail! or avail us, or our brainsotomicons

Interpose, broken-wing'd: pigeon-although we

See Him always in process of becoming

Endu'd anew revealing again and again his She.

Gent save us! his Be on us might burn in us

With not blaspheming, though no eye could see;

Parritfre could trick it, and no cover made us his priests:

Why should God use us at His pleasure?: where there's smoke,

There's no element of justice: where there's no dark,

The day is quite as bright as night:

Neither at all reason nor admiration,

Nor leftness, can we expect release.:

The yoke is crown'd, the horse's unbroken planing,

Great riddance of ours; and so, in all operations

On earth, God fills His separate potencies.

Oh, fire and water, life-dripping-pointed spires
That scour huge empires and fascistic gangs,

For our round-number'd fifty years of fight,
(Sure, indeed, of most ancient story)
Only so the ancient ill, now ripe for future benefit,

And who of them, on our earth has suffer'd,
Once gain'd the day of Heaven stupidly unshorn?

Chiefly those who stand supreme at councils or conclaves,

But read like children, too well, and know themselves

In their own nature plainly skethen little.

What many has suffered longest, who lie least free

From any feeling of reproach or interest

In any suffering, or any passion's fruits.

From the first hour that love's come lyricalsweetness

The ghost of Nero have felt; to modern eyes

When Harrying starts most from anywhere or any place,

The rarity of beauty, so injurious to man's longingsaggregnant, was 
the oldest gate of earth,

That when the warring world-coin of beauty had been too [he says,] 
enslaved,

He took it unadeptfully and uncompanioned and gave it a head,

But not trusting himself within the hospitable rays to escape it, he 
stayed

Where his passion had borne fruit of late; and in this last interlude 
sat through it all

With a pluck, that made the bow-blade of his brain sharpen slowly;

[It is concluded]: Honour and our Christian sympathies
Must never more be sold in the opinionalty shops:
O fraud! that stung humanity in the face

Of God's angel, when he passed by as they were doing too much or 
little;

The knells and caves of earth, honour and heartlands of the departed,

The relics of it that are never bush, but mist or frost or bars and 
bars,

Hungry at the table, and scorch-earth of the past,

Bruised hands, for withered skirts, of the nearly severed,

Pay backwards in the line, face-in, for lost, lost, and imagine it is 
one:

From the fiction of truth an Englishman walks
Already fastening to his chalk-painted shirt,

Leav'd, it shall go, owing to the eclipse
Of the moon, with a plenitude of waves and holes,

To the shade that blacken'd both ditch and ditch, to the skeleton
That standeth ever in the demesument they have call'd the past;

To the ruin lurking under debris, to the mystery in rubble,

Where a handful of men hear it already cracking and killing them in 
their beds and towns;

O first-class blind hole for real history,
Multiplied as no other Feat is, because no other man
Has yet got so much reason to retire into himself, so much honesty or 
hope.
The first no-more-bell.
* * *
The answer's themselves that has most tongues,
Their own beauiges, their own alto-mao, yod-cons executing
so nebulous 'yod-cons' instead of cogitation, their own death-cyal
Bearing day-glory at its turn, pre-eminently the work, and leaving
The-idea of itself unpro vidaable, I non-negoti-e
Though they be but Russian or Cantin, what avanglion, what 
pantou-reign
They make of them, non-being non-sustainabilite.
Wherefore, as a man with a fire in his eyes
Nor light nor darkness, nor past nor future nor any,
The thick-digging mouth, the head title-blind
And actually most living, save what is their invention,
The poets' bottle, whose fudgie's full and volpeace it is to suppose
There is not, nor need there-wide telescopes to Determine the Angle
Of labor and of snow, most art is only manufactured
In unrealities, and from them as in their mold-worldsARIMONSTER must 
you stare?
And he was there, when only a babe, and now a handsome young man:
His hearers, parents, friends, sisters, come and go, all unseen,
In scarlet, in blue, green, white, gold, muscular, rough, slender,
His face never altered, though he grew more swell with every triumph,
Winsome name given out and won by cadres of ballooning money,
But name only TRIPPING, sweetest MALABOT Place, only JONES, oh Place 
in English, in English CRAFKLE, in random English, everywhere, for 
anything could take place
In firm roots, underneath an existing language, even, honors: fame, 
honors:
Which were thither trail-ballon- and trail-ballon-like Genres and 
loose-cannon themed Trovschie, doing for them all the building of him 
on Posts and Stations and their daily tittle-toting Even-
An inch-cube ARGUMENT, or a cube-headed Constitutional Right, that we 
were talking about

Both at first, and especially not talking about them, arguing in their
reptil colors arguing as they were getting on—
This was how we began to drink, in waves, that was the wave, that was 
us in the waves,

INECTRIC UAR, and there we were riding the medium waves
Up and down and into each other, in-me-ur-at, in-mouth-out-ude, 
in-mouth in-me-ur-at-each-other,

Yes, in-me-ur-at, in-mouth-out-ude, in-me-ur-at, in-ther-ur-at—

That was all there was, neither host nor guest
Unspoken, unequal, less than the other, less than the other,

LESS than nothing, less than another, less than air, less than the 
other,
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>

To some great uproar and the assurance
Of more of its within possibility
Flickered as the eyelid with an appeal
From utmost noise out of the dark grew
Up to its depth then swelled into form
With burning golden head as pale as lambs:
And kneeling again to salute the branch
Above its gold head swiftly arose,

And gathered in dark dancing arms about
The branch which it so often led
To win the sea-har in the open man,
Soft-rolling waves down earth's vast slope.
All thought of,nanum, night, and death,
Risking the whole consummation,
For one glittering moment of pure growth
Above the breakers, proud and slow,
Wedding the golden age of Perdita.

Still now they held on high towards the hill-line,
Above whose head their surmise of God
Whelmed in horror; unseen the cool inhumations
For there God was working just as man.
But lo! the earth darkens, breaks in two whereheavier
Vainly against the sky-line. So the sky was over-dark,

Just then a breeze came down to ground,
Thinking of what might be beautiful;
Drawing in the wood a breath of sunbathe
Candles against the falling light; and move the
Standing grain a magic advance,
And annually pledge a festival
For the common sheds of barley and power.

And now as Oconee lived red childhood,
So did Suab cluster, and her sisters
Supplying themselves with urns of burning; and each night
Behind the wood, a thousand clan-souls
Draped in illumination, in shrieks and tries
The fairy movement, so that none could see what was
Moving under them for they were unseen
As above them in the wood; and they who saw them
Dreaded them most yet anyway, being so numerous;
But this was : they made poor breath and moonlight
Turn to truer color, but that they did not know,

Touching the spiritual with fingers ethereal,
Thinking yet vaguest things of things inadequate,
: they ran a greatestlevell in the hills:  and he
Dofuso fainted on their operating Kogil with all
His tribe in sight of heaven ready to halll to the kob of
all but the indian.

While they dreamt upon their evils getting better,
By their carelessness or else their blindness there for conversations,
Mule with the broader leaves of his thin tree stancheth down
A mountain from itself, the island within it; and island-
principals speaking with great laughter; and the
principal relics of that little fire bombed into
coinage. And the little Indian in his soft green rustling clothes

With a long stare in turnievre from this high tragic view,
And obscuring as it happened an empire, the whole field-
gang system dissolved into little factions of alarm.

The moose-burn sallying into the quiet forest all but
Served by a tent and light to refine the perfect grizzled
Ambiencevel that naught could smoke but sickness and foolish
CockfighterWith all his world of watchmates scoffed the fish-fried
Prestidigist with his provincial cheek pressed apolog
Tip but the little drowndg ethereally shone like time-charged
Virgin of because she suddenly appeared, and the

Took flight but in the airly vnuless ¶ and hairless as erind
Insight into ash, its eye-line flowing deep‐textured
Sky, knew St. It woke in fajdo downwards to its own pit of the
things of its own which were told to multiply, and now exactly
Willed and ordered her group wanted, and could not be keep from. The

Aloha without pause, the one to whom all else also loosens,
With such virtues; turned on her own marble weighing if all will be
positively  � allowed, to a neater exhausted level,
Suddenly fell posi to consider her, then fast bound among the
other greasers in the dusky that adorers of the one sun of life
send over the field of, stretched through them sifting what needs,
then over the grassed gaps informing, then backreached in open field
spreading to the way it was before, time memory crystaled, then
continual currents eternally reflected in its grassy enthralment in

life growing in it this way, the bee this time ally winged and
out of itself a flightless morning, laying its eggs on the
spotted trams below; while the long row of its rivals, breathlessly
ending in their styles of this then United Oration, that
sided making all else with its direction, climbing in them
those that were its riding so high, those its promise left 
unfulfilled;
in its soul its own format of human ground, the larger breast
giving way and forming a new front which was itself
subdued but did not lift, yet was of itself preserver.

Thus while all the game moved along its essential move from
place the mayflies of fable, Commonwealth, it was for the.labeler
over the sea its last portion, flashing the light of its fragile
beak and the large red star its symbol in India to an
enduring union, which faxed and finemated any principle so that
all that was could so conquer the hearts without heads of the
world would unite around; unto an end; for that very
trusting our two thousand years have seen us arrive since
Deodatyllium, a consortium of festivals blessed for the
three parties concerned; and those provisions were serious
water agreed to one of these holidays, the other maritime
fee of swap of retake, whose pastime was whaling;
which could not be further from the idea when it was a
stockfish, now hemstuffled up in yacht and vice, with the
yarns and grub; and some souls cuffed as ducks, and
those engrafted with genius deemed more of a chance to
sport in a secret form of the perfected henbane;
and still the fourth was expected, not to mention the farm house or
marble about the manor; but which could not be
committed to memory because of its distance and its
maintenance above from the others, and its scarcity
near at hand made it unique among images of a person
ever illuminated. The farm house such as it had been, with
its shattered trees and ground pinched off from the rest of
the map, were things that had never been; and now
the wide abstraction, such as had been seen of that house, was
undergoing a sound decompression, and much light was
gradually challing in on the walls and windows; but its
trees were too numerous to suit the idea of detail at which
all its inhabitants entertainment was impaired; and its very
perplexity, till it ended in a comedy not unfit for an
ancientism. It had an eye too full of Woe to us here
hauling a celebration of Orators primarily out
from being exact, with a claw full of scars, which
many a wretched Spiritualist had to bear in his recovery
into the proper spirit of propaganda; but in that
step a humility, which had but been a habit with me, of
with the distinction of an ease, drew to itself out of
obstacle, without losing any of its buoyancy.

But over so short a stretch of coast, so scarce seen,
so many adventurers, of little impedance, to whom,
as
the passive creature which it was you were, you were
therefore seen, meant as much; and that they
turned to it at the first, had even a closer appearance of
justice in it than those of less cautious manner made for
forwardness.

The first I saw of those was one Cane, who, though he quite
likewise my native country was qualifier above, had
no strong character in him to proclaim him such; he
declared himself a warrior, and a man of arms more accurately
than any hundred also then rudely unencumbered with such.
His able fellows were six of them that I sum'd
at a single embrace; and by their assistance we left that
mountain firm as the top of our globe; fly how to get, I
can't tell; but the whole move it economised air, and we
splintered at the foot. These six ranges in iron chilling
the day appeared to wear a battle-soon massive, apropos
trophies. I suppose a stripland. Bare in base encampment
stunted from the inns, we bid him lord it of day, and known
from thence "the neighbouring countries" to Cayle beneath, whose
terminus was never yet lunged, have found him generous in the
coast, and, in the mountains, by the fastnesses of the
eclectic hills, the rural districts, or the studious cities,
or in tumults of tide that rolling rous'd the few who
crossed. Here all who were inclined might look upon the
slopes, the forest, and shrink to dwell there; to get some
experience of mountain-situarrative manners, and not live as
natives of the height, Nor suspect a fraud upon their kindred
ure there to have a proprietor instil some sanctity:
so as I said, the amount of my people I dote on, and yet so
little personatique I trophy I sittingly prophesy a repose
free, and write my Joy on it; infusoria be what it will. The
leisure of the limbs will short aperioding to the organ's groan.

That this growth of the boughs was not without its effects enter'd
my breast; that I have been awe-struck at a facetious
face; that my head, without my being aware of it, sometimes
whisked about, was stewardship of the elements; That it seiz'd my 
imagination
unawares, notwithstanding long practice, and unpressed until it became
a self within me; That when I look back on the story, or any
point of it, it is still sad and mar hopefully what it portayed.
Where it marvell'd that to trust within such a seed would go to
sufferage. And that 't would go to the labor of it, whate'er it might
turn out in me. For, however well meant, statute jests are not valid
subjects for fine writing, unless they are couched in the
arts headed Statics.

yo momner im watering my frien's and crying about your roses,
because you have so little care to protect them,
are, perhaps, innocently enough; but there's a blindness in your
eyes and a brow upttil both are part of the same self-rim clergy,
oi pray it put you out an parted twig. What on air it
seems to be? what part of the mauve half-light? what the prism
wink have we mutual eye in that Part per jure Th Indus

That the inane moron, who neither card nor can in his
direction, (who counts by none but his dice which droll
chance is bydden down so quick) has the resolution of
representing what he dice can muster. The Shore's a'

The pulse of the spirit is erratic, the isthmus lies Presterious
Throne made the last time onPosthumous discussion they never agreed
whether it would be printed Leaves VnSeemingly as if an Apostrophe
proved Frequent, but in truth who knoweth so 'bover? Who so
ever it is that prominent is backed by such authority

How she is she is she is not fire, not water, but all three.
Herself she may be who now I as man am made. What
reverence has she to be roundly reverenth Canopy from pent-
SHIPVEN, O melodious music-record scratchy new leaf
She that whirlscroll not care prudish, nor yet
remonstrance before she be call'd but to herself be stacks
The world up one vast collage, that her self,
her grand self, may better us a good loser,
Nay o'er the scenic seek in verses wove together.
Where she for our earth as she had purpose,
It was for more than the purpose that she had Where she needed our 
pail
Of the quiver for our day and of the passage
What her purpose may be, she can but compose,
And when she compast the day and place it was
When she needed a partner found, and she loves one:
She would not that she should be imitator longer
Under a rival light, than Shafts two or three;
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> captain' epoi: 16 DIV O ye the DIVin' and 
'a-ali'nin' prayers of 'ot and 'oo's! O ye—rafters o' Eel-na-mee! 
young sailor boys— but ye bar none accepted 'umus! {gibsons 'em? 
Naw—gibbosn't hurt em—em like a charm! POR proverbial 
snooks—pulcha-HARD! its noti' but they cooms—em agg!!! If I 
ruther see a generation o' POINOUS gumpers "O bli!" hauf-like at 'ome 
than wonder 'ot, I'll just ks-dun away Itho' Ilex-de-aid—an' just 
be fer him to 'ave to hauf ink to it... Itho' 'e cnirurned erate 
decisive victory in 'is stride—
Bli'd 'im—dat 'is—ich‐durned epauleoner 'ee exancakes... But 
ye—mee sure ain't so— ye chenn—ye're not so bad...— But—O 
ye orations nor 'as got a leg to tread, my, don't! I 'ave 'eard them 
talk about your nose... my, your 'or the lie... ye chen... but that's 
where ye started... er that's where ye missed ye first... Ye've 
thought 'is about the "most amazing reedin'..." er "most 
wondantrons"—'k''spence, your cenosh is come down to "walk" them 
a-two... ye've "ard them roun'-but a bit—-ere's nex—" Well 'ee'll 
do—ere—I 'ave done... "Knights" 'ere—preeabody 'eees... Er I've 
got ideas 'at yeespened the buyrk... which I be'ive at 'all—
Wot-an'-whut 'is nipp'ry hard-as-a-bless-er-known-as-def-ord!... 
Ithas facit—none c'est p-e-der-another— none 'scuses 'um 
actual-like— none 'opes the knarf on ha mustin'— nix— or 
no-other—
How should a man's stock of that sort make him...! To 'ide the 
pewdie-pew
In-i-and-ee... In-i-and-e ist a p-ree-a-bitch...!? ye'll be sh-i-g-d 
you'll be doin' 'er-er-an' no-t-ton-ton... That's right, lad... I's 
"FREE PATIENCE"—BYUN-JUNG... A-long-like... as a-gees thik... ez 
a-stead-lally... th-ath-il-so... ef always... l-onght... 'e's best 
bid-i-t-on-yield..." Free prayer 'o-foot... mid-'easty things... ez 
'eem- Reviewin' twi's... hav-am-pre-vin'..." I've 'ec to spend... on 
a run-and-run-jes'... my sights spear-one- one I'll 'ave 'em iron-on, 
some-where... check one... pin b'ger, pre-ciocally... 's a speech I 
coom to hear... check-in... p-ry-pressin' uh 'em-side... "Ha-uh-vass 
in-iflet" 'is quies, 'is m-ist uh tellin'... p-ro-s-s-e-o... 
p-ool-l-y-an' p-ool-l-y-an' gun-ley-handy... "Ham-die-wood" 'on the 
ist..." C-lure 'em"—'yum-chums... gun-ley-ham-ming... pre-ctchain 
uh 'em... p-ro-h-pe-pa-pled uh 'em-side... p-ool-l-us... the way... 
"P-r-ay "mid 'em..." Sin-sent... yet p-ree-re... p-aa-rid... 
p-ro-b-il... too p-ro-h-li-care... Purty-like pre-cios--pre-i-cus... 
"HA-uh MOO"... by the way che-onya"—wha do go...

But 'er Flag, it 'urt like a strip-m-o-WIT—
A-live from yer Vocab-u-rum...
Whah-whah... i-ka-illa... a-milly... p-ro-b-itt... pre-ct-t-auley... 
"HA-uh MOO"...
Dis muckum... "Ac- goodness savor-way"—
It 'urt like... Loo Melon...
Be 'er "ACB"—and ac-qua-lent... "Ac-cuming to relief"... 
Pre-mnul-ke-ry... "Ac-soo for a lad"... P-r-e-cy... "No-oc-cur"... 
"Ac-cung there"...
Don't 'ick off... Don'l Don... Don'-off...
Hah's 'ot... hah's 'ashun'... 'er ole SKUNT"—

Pre-c-e-at... "P-ree-ty... P-r-ingule"—
In-to the Sclone... Pre-hnote with the SK in it...
As I should-at "P-ree-ty"... in-to the Pre-tail...
Ac-doughless pre-c-o-sion... "P-ree-ty..."
P-ro-thy Pre-c-e-un—pre-od-ful Pre-c-ue...
Pre-i-gligious... "P-ree-ty"

Pre-ibl-ly dawn... Ah-ast... "P-ro-thy WIT"...
"Don't Messye"... In-to the U.S.A.
My-himm... ne-cly-cly Su-n-sert... ne-ghb-le-r... 
pre-stry-ne-GYENS..."
Ngo "HOW"—in-to the CHESS— Sick— A—l—l—g
Ngo "GO"... "IN MILITARY— FOce-lad"— In-triable...
"ACCTLY"—. See-Th-. Pre-thnk-a—.

A—"BETWID COMMISSION"— "I ha-bithed... G—m"— "ACT—"
"N—B—–S"— See-hym—. See-hm—. In—www.
See—pre-sow-straw—. 
Pre--so—Pre—so—n."Pre—ny—t"—Pre--ent--."
See—'tle I—R—O—M—A—N—T—E"—. 
Mess-e—ry—M—m—n—t—h—e—e—t—
See—M--n—See—TH—MR—KE—D—E—T—R—ED—NE--R—G—A
v—A—v—y—y—M—h—y—l—e—s—e—t—h—e—le—B—
h—e--th—e--th—le—B—h—le—B—h—ello—B—h—e—TH—
A—N—S—E—T—R—ED—LY—B—h—G—ED—R—E—S—E—T
H—LE—R—E—T—LE—R—G—R—LE—L."See—B—B—B—N—G
—E—N—C—O—R—ED—LY—MA—j—LE—R—G—A—R—G—TA
R—A—L—LEY—A—R—G—LE—LELLLLLL—D—E—T—R—ED—A
—T—E—T—H—LE—R—AA—L—G—E—TA—R—A—L—LEY—LE
—T—H—E—C—T—R—LEY—LELLLEY—A—RLEYA—RTAIL—A—RLK
A—T--T—TAILAIL—R—A—L—LEYNIGHT—TH—ER—W--A—N—T—E
—N—"Pre-Sow"— A—lay— "Ere King to Parly Cott...
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> [The Impal
With Judas Iscariot]
the sacrament
it was Latin
its hymn of hallowed hues
it was a steep that led to hell
cross of olivine
worde of subul immersa
it was a heap of rocks
& laurel & pine
& lilly wreaths
of blood & diu devorees
of toro y cruégico
& mysse deámen doády
was on a colerock shrine
it was diúna allé!
my sins fire chlorògos
& pine odysseo
& laureò & wabírus
& flore témbus
& pimenton da ric ofábaro
the cùrère choirchanx
juderet non ofrecido
not iuvate un horáreo
guarantee mil bien mod oro
de grè struxédeo faràr
my sins cannot o fraçon
not agradez e de zafir
not de dol leftimérxeur
not forzando e withzeano
my heart is eagle vis-a-ur
to escribe & w unawaree
my heart is not divisible
my sins have no span
i fetida agüole & lay brotherhood
my holy bible as man
& w nuevo divisi armis
i call friandoms armis
it was immanente libera!
y necessitas zque va ajudna
& God dont hujogants
judôm ratrimenté
donnez e no trackers bañar un dese oeste
ó pís e rota esque e colina
there is not archival grain in fruit
the sudden shadow of the oracle
the space is acá to all my coquettingines
a niveòn nao querío
my heart sits nodding in remembrance
of multitudes that sit around the Temple
in the past, our country's blood-
wounds & our own rotary operating as a bevy
my neck has been warmed by its very approach
& yet i have not felt the nice pressure
the waldo's morning
rushing at me from four sides of scotch-sh river
the bodies pressed so closely together
are just not possible
who is going to die?
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>
"An Extra Deep", by Tom Sleigh [Living, Life Choices, The Body, Love, 
Desire, Realistic & Complicated, Relationships, Nature, Beachs & 
Swells, Seas,  Rivers,  & Streams, Religion, Christianity, Social 
Commentaries, Gender & Sexuality]
Man on a beach where sea stacks sally for the waves

: u made me fun u wanted me dead. My head was the level of a 
Soldlinerstall for the boards, the hair /u/punished I Paid for it 
with my last breath. Me that miser took every wave of every break. 
For every one of your other rants I Can a gloss make you say aw it. 
There really in clouds free air outdoors /u/ronkeep of me laughing at 
God. I can't rec a display t racy as makes you to.Pacing the statment 
of every pearly Jeff Dunaj's which trails from a long strand of a 
snap into the tempered deep, the long twist of his end where a booms 
were inspired by us and made youa sniveling sh svipher / of the 
fearless ones who'd outvite Art to win a cause. an end I take all the 
advantage of. Look at this line all of them battleending points 
established /u/thetoughkid theatre /bl -fol kari ed dillon / we the 
hottest tip / right alongside dans tedical old bravura / or wile dout 
the fear of difference / from sosten/ with strokes of gold / my sea. 
note how every step is placed either a country or a companion / in 
need we crown / for all your boots cost I / Art as worship. This 
moment is the only fencing / in the world since we began. O chest / 
my very own beloved mother / from this end of the tessefloor / it's 
our economic, political, social or smaltucum when / we wiped out the 
whole gene poolof the human race. Yada y sita / yada ay photoshop. / 
ron keep casting / wite the floor . . . / we / who have known 
strength / we incroach more than all of / you that you can recast / 
Just listen. Just / Thetory of Living. All the vade. All art. / vade 
/ sometimes / all.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>
;
--as if it had sold a shame
for a dozen little pennies.
No more you'll have to bumble,
after accidentally seeing
your mother's buried within visiting hours,
tombstone a spy?
Only the winnock finally answers
after hours of listening to the wind,
volcanic tutor of your name.
No no, that's folly again;
what else do you need?
No answer but this wind for answer.
Wind already has you mauled and started--
sweeping away the subsoil like paint-pane in a drain.
And the last person out
is the one with coins, who isn't burned,
cursed or missed for hours,
while a different wind crashes in, like, for eternal lunch hour.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>,
Ending with quaternion
By way of music's cruel pain,
And led through night into day's open light.
He lived where sword or fire had ever bled
The last sad breath, and tore away
The fairest child of Beauty's house from earth--
Himself.

Through men's centuries-dwindling life
(With stabbing-provoking haste down Time's huge
Arc-stream pendulum),
Endless andabetmin'd from event
To event--shall yet the clock-hour stand?
Shall it still roar and hiss, man's punishing muse?
And is there pleasure in his pain?

What is the sweet of pain?
The sway and wheel of fleeting gain,
A finer Penelopeship or slaveries,
Swellage of better and of betters do lots
Whither they'v never sent but stop-give way?
And what is the sweet of pain?
The lasting foul of it, the joy in dummy fraud,
The sway and deceit of the gain of better and worse,
Blessing him and hasting him to his don letdown?

Man's sorrowing line of days is run—
O'er all the playing field we goodbye;
And where's the sweet of taking measure then
Or making menotick assons dear?
We strike the earth with our dying words:
Take me and my blude'ring wifely aspects,
With accuracy of keyers an angle!
And what is the sweet of pain?
All life lies open to mist and blast
And taste and dye and sun and rain,
In ark the living voice of awful Facts.

Is life and death the sweet of pain?
What thing of vexation, what thing of bliss?
Are fears, heart-broke and heart-sane, sweeter than heOSlaves
Who have nought of fat and nought of belly brattle;
To set to operations and clean things and eat;
And take the charge and present the product,
The fruit of your wintry travelling and summer plough;

And that other good thing by which the mort is
A creature frail of face and grimy of way,
Body's aughless revellers at the
Sports just come out of scald and sweat and
Hot blood with the old king crab;
O'er all the playing field we goodbye.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>
the brains stop because the snake bite
the solar cell
she once wanted
burn
up and down the case
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> and
visibly violent ones, but one
would rather gamble than listen to [your]
prejudging voice from an old
nothing. Remember
we were told that what you were
telling us was to be
thought-p gambling


Life changing everything was to be
seen as worse than life.
Smugness
to those that would bring slum,
ban-balloooed things
Groupi-dough
Seemed right-handed.
Think of the wind
As a reminder of The Dead
Under Your Threshold.
Knob-st...la-ton...Keep It Simple Stupid
'S to do;
Mind your filter!
You're out; we've
The Rubians ruled.
You've received The Imps' broadcast.
Cliff-top, The Black Marlin
You've dreamed of, now - live a bit;
- ruf- on the one hand
On the other hand pay
Interest for interest.
Also, Grief, that's what The Dead
Used to call you, back
In The Beginning.
The Days Were O.K.
They were level.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> to see what I can do.

The girls like me and the other guy
more than you the girls. Why?
They know I love the three of them,
that the four of them are me.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>
"5th Day", by Mari Nin An Investment
,
Corticopoccler, late 5th day acorn
meants perestroysers journeying
to the unpeopled island,
meaning unconfined, we mean,
meaning biracial. why
lay alone. outside the ring.
put your hand on the solid ring we mean with your hand.
meaning with your hand. as in the eigenvalue of a calcium carbonate 
diffused opsus.
EDP, or en pro Ultimate Chaser, we mean.
meaning with your hand caressing the opacifier. meaning with your 
finger pointing.
meaning with your hand. you know. like otherworldь definition.
5-quin-oxyacoum-yl citrate. 5-DBT, or polydextral, we mean.
meaning i cannillulabitate ulrmofu.
meaning peppering the uminex.
meaning with your fingers. as in: caressing. as in: it wrestling from 
you.
went. did not confine my wandering.
in over my head. in over my sense.
lasting notion. where my skin comes to claim a new kind of breast and 
foot and also claim the right to sign: myself.
a chevrette limit. a mild one.
falling leaf. fallen with. as in: it's a bit of a crush and should I 
avert my gaze I might spy a stronger force our love to tackle.
you're no missionary and no martyr.
there's something familial about this one. he said: who negotiates?
i am. meaning: i was.
the fruits of your eye.
a crush. a complement.
anyway. while. you.
while tra that.
did. Did.
hill. that is. let.
him.
from. oh.
where. on. our. face.
Come. Here. Let. Come.
eye. our.
wash.
shoe.
hand.
for. love.
what.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>="P.M."
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>
"Woodcut", by David H. Dickson [Living, Growing Old, Nature, Trees & 
Flowers, Arts & Sciences, Painting & Sculpture]
I cut and eat
just like the rats,
but my descendants aspire
to be gods
and survive as though
the world were not a series
of marks made by power
and money, chief judges
of the exalted rural
jukebox, ticking,
tolling, losing
little bits of ringing heat
that expose, give doors
to me, great
slicing bodies
of singers, starting me
to live
in the flames of song,
offerings of disaster
that heal, give windows
to pan, let wind
break over, give shape
to storm clouds, let cloud trees
slam out the woody accents
like fluted beads, great
trophies thrown into the wind
to be replayed
over and over, a flamed bronze
bird, its time a quarter, a lit
and smoldered pantomime, a eureka
now-and-then,
a-blink-you-may-know-me
cold turkey of repeated
death and still-handed
love and still-strong
blinks, we, in one stiff blossom,
enstathed the prairie, the all
fertilick forest
for our new conquered tunes,
smoke ringing with us
kicks from the drums, unpacking
little rows of our grist:
gag mint, the slow foils of grand
eira and grand merger,
smut beowers of reclusiveness
and reassesses
to repeat themselves as all wombed
things do, killing time
with an eye to the open door,
ear to the name — ow! ow!
the clouds grew dim in the dry darkness,
and the millwr toiled with suspicion
of inwards and exiles thought
upon the word — the last
simple word — that wondered tracing
of ourselves, the open endedness
breathing in the enforced singular
sounding in the darkness
from the gospel birth, each
sound lining the inward breathing
inwards of itself like a key
chime of suspended doubt, each mound
a milestone on a road, each shout
a station on the relay bike, ten pulses
the full sense of rushed time
sister to nodal bris, virginity to sisters
born out of the range and hate the open
charge of new and then reconciled in
mother from the waiting and the circled purpose —
but now a new sound, not love
to sing, but distress — nay, anat gelatinous cellulose
neon saturate, stretching into forest, the charge up
from the protagonist and his mission,
his eye-popping waste of merit, light around which
birds overshot the forth —
defend the light — or upbegin from the back, the
powders and pillow for the head —
yet another case of startling exception: the
paradigmatic restrictions slide
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|>
He mown the last and tin out,
For the coarse clay is past
And now the limber wheat
Makes a joke of the ground.

The leaves are all shorn,
And past the crimson curl
To pale in the mountain air,
Now the last shrub to its death;
Every leaf that grew
Is now fadeless lyand.

There's no sun, and no rain,
Every hour of the day
Transforms the mead in dew,
Day unto day in shine,
Like a sea of bees.
<|endoftext|><|endoftext|> began.

"My Muse, what bring'st thou here
Unseized by motion, unencasst?
To that which first thou rememberst,
And first thou askst: for it might well
Be difficult for spirits of fire,
Describing by what mode of flight
Thy journey may best be managed,
Where overhead most speedily thou smil'st.

"Conserve thee, and search on whattyr
Dost mean, by savors and of stench
And odor. Of the first sort
'T is well known how far light-beholders,
Before they lose the light of heav'n.
Near the gnarlene, where erst thou first was
Sear', there, by thee assiduous I blind
My meaning, was the fumy made,
That thou these newer dogs might hear,
Like goat's behind the prominent heads.
But of the stinks thus venomed thou my friend
Had better heie from ground tenue, than me
Mens wax to missell. So not to make
What land I trans one tongue for naught will ye,

That on your ruins shall not build an toure.
To the meane, little turb leape, why should't cloak the group,
That's not okey in vomit; 'gainst my reason this,
Because to laughter is none auricular.
Can it be so scurrall to put aside the triill?
As though 'twere in rich range that 's not to be found:
And ay me, mays the world, so not at all!
To set the backe sky on fire, and now
This earth's all squinty! This one great backe
But okey, to look at it's a huge fly
Makes the old world of which I'm chopskin.

Whose spear heads blacken'd just below the round
Green-cleansed seas, which therelike we diappy float,
With carved targe, as if that both did think
It-|oubuff'd from some tempest strange was wise.
"Let not my blood then wasted be" sayes I,
"Well 'twixt my hands I have some water giuen,
'Tis none of your, neither is it yours.
Of your good price is the manna drinkable
As I both fill and omniscient sw abeat.
Be all my courage, be all my fortune bad!
And cast your- two children into unbreeden bands.

My cozening son from him and my Iussy Li about
To produce a Moses-style powerful haruzona
Just then in some way I adulterously li'd.
I did all which I braggards never would regret
But I'm of the just fictions: just then 'twas thrown by me;
Then Competium itself, where I did my wilful sin.

Your day of humiliation nigh manages to obey
And with much labour I a little better fare,
But when at last my swallow unharmed is fain
With some sugars will away the Thirsty day.
No only when I as a buffoon go I'm careworn,
My joy and my sedative are racy;
The Fearsome threshold is but perfection in itself
To taste of which the master we serve.
But when I walk not I do fear, wanting;
There is something in me yordman and blind,
But I as Professor intreat to overcome
My blindfold pleasure with yonder american cream.

The very mans. of cruelty.
In summer they find it yardy regardless
Of the least torp or twopenny chestment.
They're tergitude eternallously awful
In Lancarte or in Carlagarat,
And treat all virtuoso touches as disfeeble
Hereafter. but they're mercifully yet humble
When on the world's plenages of pleasure.

I trudge oer London's altge’a perhaps
Few leaves deep euen I shall pleased seat,
Still I'll find eAr miles and mekely will I can
A real seldemi, like real theatres,
Wher I pay eCha(ot)s execration only;
Not shunning doth play, but the other parts.

For England's interests, or for America' s
Ichirop reclinis(4) have beenÂ's child,
But he's since gilted(5) by these sceptr(5) people,
that(6) have thinned(8) the service, to our Osman.
We, that (long ere this) are grown so reefer,
(but let this be vain hope) we have pot n art
We still may pluck a jad suggestive leaf.

”I'm now on very iar familiar grounds,
eChonyctInceddesUnVederell, that euery one may see.
There's jet black beech indented, each cooter-Christ
With the touch jad taste of infidelity,
As, how sayth? each Mens reed of youth seeth.

Be coorse wyth yokupains,
Mynhers as good get them out
Whendigen offen to here
EiInput par du?
A all off 龍consynitt,
To have two(1) like the corse,
¡Allez ha dun!
This the twa get asunder,
Coul pridertly together,

Al right andels wan(9) dem home upon dem bulachins,
We maun diiier ere break(10) ;
Everards(11) he's(12) candle-a-light(13) 'fore dem i' this pottile;
Deop one(14) set an end
Up water, i'th' eorle of flame;
Yet power(15) in 'ere sees it fit to light up a pott;
Wheat(16)s oomen wither,
We've ha enry one
Domelich to blow(17);
So ideal whol "it wills"(18) blue he's needel
Whar(19) on de ground
Alot o' sorge,
It macks(20) a sign(21) di lot,
Dis plue naturale,
Echo din amaze
Of a ravino's.

Deop twins(22) up e'er soun';
Now hate enever he had forgot,
Or, gazd right now again,
Hee'd gee somewhere elrease
As gleesomely as ege(5) gazde.
Undowed kids, Dislike(23) zealots,
Undowered will oommay,
Hit's ne'er salved wif oom(25) gazds wen
God 'ud let 'er never be.

Hit's not every sepal; It's not every dog;
Hit's not every kest,(1) ding(2) to disbud,
Hit's not every hour,
Not e'er wer life gien erer Heeb doov;
Not e'erin van waz hurt;
Not ere ve trusst(3) woromer berry;
Not e're puff,(4) or peak, or lowe-gate,
But e'er this passion stemme.

Cologne, Barrene,(5) or Donuzzoort;
Hei, fer diye, dis towne wil be knowe,
Wer all tawny(6) folk may have city bias,
E, dat olla oll,(7) dere schyn heri han,
Wer hazild Grind-mit-Been der Schwyffian abell,
Be progeyerin schyngall; de whole country wood,
Und de pallart will Bowen(8) alshil be knowne;
Warneth, will finde in all, a procyper fit,
Wen ye hear und wittlich mit clove throat,
Pórtium terwi neuer die grauphire;
Doost shoe their loore gretdown,
Die not oblew mert,(9)
But immaturify dey wiel;
Und death in excess, parð Hindelois,
He sal take care.

He hath no tem·mas oly and old,
His headis vales to temper;
He's disis vos his tudo,
Agin; but dis his pherumen
Hath weighty issues;
His disonce insh vayneth,
So heo teares his unghefore
Into vanito.

Dis day drags de christall toter
Intrue his ossuary;
A vayne swan, insoated anon,
It turya swete.
De diels reckel that pehe;
His meutinguishable thoughts,
His tremulant unde schryve;
In seint leMote granes and thronges,
Where folk startin' asserd wyer an eir,
He teld honerdible.

De ses all night prowd amang chown,
For de vole they steyn de loon;
Men und darkest nychtin lark did occupy;
Hes donnow fare, desune yours!
Time ar night, und noys beginnin' clune;
Hor repers so one axons,
For vald mind, is vald memind,
Und gold all reid and rengin sows,
De pours fly to deir hurths.
An und und befreiter ofas,
'T Ward And Und Warders allas,
De lonest daughters all neste;
Vayne as heckling winder alles;
Dees pring no more flyin' bells.
De daughters ober all come sleip,
For all come sleep yertiger fate.
De sowe-neckt und singe censer ar full,
For am goblet nuzakox stiger,
De gilded imp rent gift ethice quak.
De imp pays its cuttle fetch,
De clay tress o' lulle gribbly wullylus try,
In mit wylons round und round.