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often the greatest things those you'd think would be the heaviest are the very ones that float
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so i etched harmless in that ground of merds and moss and to this day my people listen to strangers crying wares with an intelligent ear remembering our grave old danger
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to cry out more room crack like a shell heave between its crushing shores
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that's how it is that's it throwing your jacket over your shoulders like a towel and saying goodbye victoria goodbye sophie goodbye lili goodbye sweetie take care be well hang in there see you soon
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but soon to solo unfold all those origami limbs to test the inevitable debutante bawl
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who could have fashioned the test that would have predicted this success who could have known
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of our winter as though today only she can see where she goes and track where she's been
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the hale yellows pale once they're plucked
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or what i refer to as where you look upon the place you cannot return one broke on through
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and by the time i have taken in the third the second is likewise gone a blown-out candle now a wavering line of acrid smoke
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number one across a four-letter word for no longer
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number one down an eleven letter word for gone
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where one of the kids was handing out something that turned out to be small pieces of orange peel something exotic we'd never seen before which i smelled nibbled and finally ate for this poem
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and that time rolls around for all of us getting frustrated and mad because they meant but did not know they meant themselves too
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just like you i entered this world mad and kicking and without you it's precisely how i intend to go
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we poked him through the clover into a hole and then we threw brown earth right over
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through a pane of glass that shivers when the wind kicks up i watch my son walk away
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though lowly its stem this emerald gem mates with the proudest that shadow the earth
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beneath the trees' arsenical sharp woodwind tunes heretical blown like the wind's mane
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and with his bound heart and his young eyes bent and blind he feels her presence like shed scent holding him body and life within its snare
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my eyes are caked with dust of oat-fields at harvest-time i am a blind man who stares across the hills seeking stack'd fields of other harvesters
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my ears are caked with dust of oat-fields at harvest-time i am a deaf man who strains to hear the calls of other harvesters whose throats are also dry
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with an outward stroke of power intense your mighty arm goes forth cleaving its way through waters that rise and roll ever a ceaseless vigil keeping over the treasures beneath
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my heart goes out to you of dauntless courage and spirit indomitable and though my lips would speak my spirit forbids me to ask is your heart as true as your arm
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slicing this frozen sky know where they are going and want to get there
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their women and homes forgotten you can't hear their screams from here but they're there
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i forget regardless i know that someone said in a perfect universe we'd all be dead
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but the lightning was as quick as it was loud the clouds dispersed and then so did the crowd
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shrubbery thrashing to get in lines all panes long windows split in parallels
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i make a knife of words i sit here waiting i play with crumbs
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i open ward at the elisabeth hospital berlin my tongue is a spoon
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once there was no language for the weather just the sky is low and birdless or the sky is a box of wings
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stubborn calendar of bone last snow now it must always be so
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she's a mathematical wonder with so many calculations kept alive in her head adding and subtracting when everyone else is asleep
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when we know we'll get some thing from what he takes away
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late days i want to drive to your grave but i don't belong to it
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northern follows jig body flashes with strike dive broken line floats up
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i can't articulate the agony of eagle singer's children to them
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walk naked before me carrying a sheaf of sticks it's the most honest thing a man can do
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cynomyopsis cadavarena on every tongue they feed
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i'm not in with this mystery somebody steady me cool ocean breezes don't make me laugh
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i'm in with noisy metal little nils a million apologies i must have made more
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this is cruising at watch-me miles-an-hour
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a crow gliding over a ravine was the sign his eyes were waiting for they thought they were ready to cross
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for years i have been here without a clear map that hopes should dim as days go on above is natural i suppose what do i know
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i am dressed like one of them the thick walls quake but stay soundproof i fear my fists vestigial
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all shapes breaking hysterical particles and subs who settled devoting former whir of shape to silence which was enough
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it stayed uniform silent for some many months which strengthened to pull outer space noise in to neutralize but lost its grip
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so this sound hard-pressed in to sink holes and look into original force that was still shut in under black lacquer cabinetry: our future perfect world
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it opened the door of dust the space sound picked up pings distantly seeing to sound is what and how bounceback
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since the dust so still and small the waves skinnied high-pitched to switch on resistance of an average mote
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what would stand to receive what was the point of pointing out resisting decay what was there to say
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so sound deranged to be needle pierce to dust piece and sunned a word heard first by the bygone
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and the silence startled by the sneaking sound forgot its own high ground and grumbled some rebuke
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we wondered what our walk should mean taking that un-march quietly the sun stared at our signs thou shalt not kill
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men by a tavern said those foreigners to a woman with a fur who turned away like an elevator going down their look at us
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along a curb their signs lined across a picket line stopped and stared the whole width of the street at ours: unfair
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insomniac monkey-mind ponders the dove symbol not only of peace but sexual love the couple nestled and brooding
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monkey-mind envies the male dove who equally with the female secretes pigeon milk for the young from his throat
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for peace send all human males between fourteen and twenty-five to school on the moon or better yet mars
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is peace merely a vacuum the negative of creation or the absence of war the teaching says peace is a positive energy
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still something in me resists that sweet milk my mind resembles my restless inferior cousin who fires his shit in handfuls from his cage
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that takes and takes and never fills i kick stroke my tired arms to buoy this body
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not ever want picks the human heart you're the lie i won't believe forever
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i broke my left wing in the revolution when troops were sent to vandalize the chapel they hit me once almost apologetically
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of boys who knew no better way to grow up than throw up the crown amp be down for whatever
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silent resonances of glass configured had i but struck us off the masque of blackness as it was playing
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like a hand brushed across the bill of a cap let this be the sign i'm getting a grip on the sacrifice
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here we are left with the stairway that separates my i am not at the mercy of men oceans
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between one airplane and their innocence wanes under the word has sunk silence to us is forbidden
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one or another nightmare may come true and what to do then what in the world to do
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and so now i'm sitting in a dimly lit where the windows are covered with soot and the coffee is warm and bitter
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so full of longing for the world changes its shape
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a vigilant gun that always picks out the right target even if it's you no matter who you're aiming at
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a truck so awesome only the president of the united states of america's allowed to careen in it to his own beat
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all the greatest hits from the last millennium performed live on stage on the inside of your state of the art acoustically-enhanced skull
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a complete set of nude photos of you taken by you and sold back to you at a discount
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rain water in a bottle sunshine in a box and ambience sounds from a bus stop down the street recorded on a cd
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a baseball game that never ends to be played simultaneously with a football game that never ends
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landmines made with dough topped with mozzarella and all your favorite toppings
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and i did i liked it so much that now we're getting married
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i love you for your holes she said not just the holes in your shoes and socks but the gaping holes in your personality
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i have never been fishing on the susquehanna or on any river for that matter to be perfectly honest
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not in july or any month have i had the pleasure if it is a pleasure of fishing on the susquehanna
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sitting in a small green flat-bottom boat holding the thin whip of a pole
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that is something i am unlikely ever to do i remember saying to myself and the person next to me
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a philosopher did not realize that the man who expelled poetry from well-ordered republics used to tremble at the thought of doing so thereby creating through that very act a sublime poetry
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los muchos que el tirano amor me debe y en mi cabello anticipar la nieve por quien el apetito se le atreve
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mas consolarse quiere mi disgusto que es el deseo del remedio indicio y el remedio de amor querer vencelle
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cuando me paro a contemplar mi estado que la mayor mal pudiera haber llegado ver acabar conmigo mi cuidado
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an entire landscape in antarctica disappears evaporates until salt becomes the only debris there are keys to everything even handcuffs you could have been happy too
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but i covered my face and wept for ashes are not beautiful even in the dawn
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but still i walked on in the drowning rain slowly winding up the string
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i seek him for atonement of my sin this day of fasting to forgive the wrong and he will answer he will say forgiven
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when the loons cry the night seems blacker the water deeper
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across the shore an eyelash-charcoal fringe of pine trees
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they pack their bags and take the train and travel through a strange terrain but not to where the castle is
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we wakeful ah pity us we that go back with policeman day back from the city of sleep
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of your body) pleasured corners of a place in which the difficult new breathing and i are foreigners
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let it be to gain all it can in one fetter but if it be life let it attempt a failed recognition
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