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Not so much of place as of renewed hope,Cuts out of its width (81). UnfairWant anything said at all, which I still doubt)With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps—Now that you notice it—have just moved pastsnoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,Hoarfrost is in his bones and on his head,And Mère Chose's square of world, even as theyThat this mud draws on the stone.their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneouslyThat images of roads, whether composedgiddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,and turn it into something cartoon-funny.Against this sky no longer of our world.Seen. What you know is only manifestAway from their profundity of surface.Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesceWinds blow sharp, what then?










Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
Cuts out of its width (81). Unfair
Want anything said at all, which I still doubt)
With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps
—Now that you notice it—have just moved past
snoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,
Hoarfrost is in his bones and on his head,
And Mère Chose's square of world, even as they
That this mud draws on the stone.
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneously
That images of roads, whether composed
giddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.
Against this sky no longer of our world.
Seen. What you know is only manifest
Away from their profundity of surface.
Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce
Winds blow sharp, what then?
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