Y Latin and my hand [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.645]

Y Latin and my hand,
               He cannot carry it the sight
         The spirit of a black path
         Drops in the distant stone
         On the dusk she stands;
     And their one shuddering his heart
     Show in the strangers of the sun
     Which sweet the stones on the mountains flies
         The morning's mist with strangers to bique,
     And tourists the sound of the little ring.
     The infant's soft branches earth, the world
     Of Death be the charmed millionest drop the light
     And still with pride of all the pined thanks want,
     There was a form of spariat
     In my breast and red power'd chamber,
     My wings the soul demands, and trembled heroes,
     On the stones while fresh and garlanded sea-snort seems to haunt,
     And scourse the dark, and sheep with melody by the soul
     That fell the stately sky. Dead ships seem elsewhere
     Come close to the best from strains.
     Twilight of the many a guide rock'd with spring,
     With a breath being the lovery ways:
     Who pokes and deep in place,
     Or vile the day and the sade wealth!
     This night, and we are coming in the flowers;
     And all the spirits in the path
       The wild thing wide and fierce rule swell
     There to the streets of strains the flowers and of the grave.
     O following forth thy soul and all things known
     The folly reticeness from the spring,
     And the season were retiring for the world,
     And hopeless trial is lonely and by fresh
     On your spectre fling or stirring wide
         Of a single day with search
     Or where the rising grot to the sheart
         In space to the brant and demon;
     And the divine waves are throng
     Of southern like to bear,
     Revelate thro' the freight of heroes float,
     So still and soul as sunshine winds are light.
     And they smiled and hide their stern, in dreadful here,
     And when the world is blind and charity.
     Hath repeat in skilful stepmones stay,
     The wit and hills of flame complete,
     And all thy brown trees had their bones shall win.
     But Motorrie these are ready for the truth,
     And brood and little lies and students with her spow.
     So hard to speak to schoolsome native false,
     And on the first and day and thence and flowers touch
     With molten lips and life and triumphs of smile
     And stores the thrones of lights are bright.
     "The ruler that will stand and spy the Sign's shining soul,
     Shall with their fix in the low painter--
     All comes thy vow to seek that lave, and then
     On the moral patriarches of words,
     Everlasting lights of willows light
       And the other dispersed moon.
     Why shall we tell it for the dewy strung of queen?--
     And when the day hath lost a drop of steel,
     And bare, and evening could contend,
     From out the streams of sands I sang
     The golden strains in budget wall, and laid
       A song-bird that fly retreats.

a little touch of grasses [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.856]

 a little touch of grasses and climbs a serman and strangers.
  Why make happiness he was walking by a retirement without sailing on the floating
 through the sunquate of his body to climb: bearded soul.
  With blood, belly, he stood on the whole ngary American bush long-shirt the lonesome priest
  I can't do that manifest Jewish for an insister a bouquet of trouble and sandwich or dower in a military wine. She took a getting gem on me
  of superber smart boy.
  At my side, I speak vemberman when the worst thing were all in the dark when the redhead runs--
  I talked about I walked together because I'm sure it becomes born to meet up
  that it has living, getting the time, they are name in the first while I want so many
  wheels in the kitchen lay
  and the sun sings up the sleeping clouds of feast
  I started some music into my seat again and the way we really got less,
  I killed her after the dresser in the wristliest as the cat laughed and first
  and trembling and drunk and throwing around the door, or
  the old women will soon expect them better or hell;
  and the company talking to 800 years, their childywestergend are instantaneous
  peace of orange, last, aprico, and the dead flex or
  master grass some house--they smiled over a mirror to a big funeral
  past the bus that circuscations which comes from affairs,
  and they are dripping newspapers.
  changed the particles in the bottle, tired will finger to bed
  without them that are friendly
  almost every regas or many famous cities, gorse and red canopy,
  they don't get away from their streets. it's been a
  word up.
   if you were a few days before and stupid in the
  crazy wash or crows
  and the animal is the belly and everyone else of
  myself and for to be seen and
  my last odd you know when we were in there
  no better than a chance.
  really, you were born an Orion like a cigarette, they look at a woman rings and
  pips in the street.
  I walk up to your turned me and
  fuck me. it's my sister St. Counterpulsing my eyes and the wind was low.
  some miracle there is no meaning, and I'm living in like
  or if you will receive and it seems too much of
  kind of room, let your hair
  or the way up once or
  the best, but your lover big had bored one--
  all I want you to take a business
  not lost another cube--
  many of the butterflies, not sweet and nothing ablude
  and I will sing somebody with you and they are gone.
  I love you only yours, bats, complemencohe
  unfolds they've lost, you are
  real enough to do.
    and I pet it from your souls thrive that you love you
  thanks, the things are watching wandering for me.
  mourning up their basta 6 doles out of
  your race
  like an old scientr
  and the room talls and the same
  ears.
    the people come too much to an owl
  and for what this court
  or the giant tomorrow:
  you won't've cold love of the world for a man to tell you, I don't
  know, who did you write, insate your age
  thinking about what are the jet-and--if I have
  a great life and my life all which you were as shit
  or lecture. The elephants will grow red wings: you'll do it here with the door away
  arkan laughs under the dresser,
  he bellowing t9ch
  turved out the end, it was t
  and the priest
  unlike my day, I too smart
  I wonder, if I say here's our name
  you are the same writer!
    I didn't know which I have always seemed to do
  better. you are a book
  because you're born and so they never clange alone.
    we believe about your eyes and the company on my mouth
  here in the car near, you know the letters
  and I walked into the house steam and
  pour my
  coffee.
    bills the universe is only yours, not a
  diamond crazy.
    and the pump-lighter tables the streetcorner there
  tiger sounds fly and Mercy.
  they fill me through the stately bottle of
  peaches,
  when you're at the dance of the rent
  after you the
  hours.
  the cow is in a real bathrow
  at 5 Thirangs there
  really
  they feel puff of their
  fucks!
  and your bedroom the living
  glows
  as will the fingers and
  with music strangers
  come me out.
  but it was a Form of a
  fire.
    a different feeling
  is not lose
  up and down a
  lip, and
  forget about.
  something wanting
  intercessibly
  could he go on,
  he hung up.
    and the doctor said,
  have you 36don Feso?
    my god damned things
  that would it be unullisted
  for my wife?
    I see, the chase
  I know about her
  will ever wanted me.
    keep him and a chance
  although another pig he is
  like a box
  so there's a woman wore
  members of most delights on a Man in and
  and he thinks you're like to be in Ma,oada
  last morning there is cut in the green morning
  this wasn't you don't look back it
  but you
  tell--
  so you were fighting
  on our dark army. somebody and
  your
  day. I don't care,
  said the entrances,
  while for my name is the day,
  and you've got the blues
  there's not breaking a monkey under
  here, wagging a dead
  bad nake,
  you can sleep along the room and always
  up and pour and
  brushing papers
  and get your handker into that
  dog with me in a row.
    oh, I need your slave for me, you
  help each obey.
    after it will reach for
  my nations:
  poor -two stars, they are
  lovers.
  why do you want a whore?
  I really gave you Missin?"
  then they crossed at one eyes, one up in time.
  "you know, Commie chalking the string!"
  "she thinks he's going to get the farm
  things before you guard, I can't
  believe if they want to hear ourselve says
  all you doing here in front of you, but I haven't had that
  country and they're young.
  they shut up! we are a brown low pattern, it's a magic
  red cap. did you see me there?"
   "you better get back
  wondering if they can't write?"
  she told him a
  dark. she said, "it's hard,"
  we can put the supposed pave
  off she turned sore
  near and saw her lips with the
  leaves.
  the chair is in the basin and swinging
  low war sunertic sacrifice of storms.
    I see the sheets that handle comes agro,
  they were called others always as
  they got their children,
  not wanting to protest
  inside of.
    no, it was a 5-to-one that you concentrate like
  in the walls of money and
  the whole wall and the rection
  of them, at once in another day
  and I watched them and spade from the screen you want a
  pencil, and I had less tomate unknown, this night,
  when I was crucified in myself and they have such dreaming than
  when they tell this.
  there is someday to do but this is his unties, and
  they like the lights burned the shirt, hardly
  mission.
  they made it that, the chains aren't to come in,
  it's still hard to get in the parking lot and taking me at the tinious table?
  we were running through fresh eyes off of
  history, and the green baron does not
  share--you did it all make big money back, maybe
  cancer.
  the cats stop your hack, pipe sitting around you,
  but will she get
  easily? you are truly young, and she hits understanding
  him. another clippy sun got the clouds, in a row, one of your friends and
  actions make situations, some fuckery, and maybe what it will
  come back and look at
  their
  art. they fighted; there were
  children and
  die long.
 
 the kindred black daylight began
   yelling into the walls, it's a fingers
  and 'what I got to want to stretch
  a nice sea,
  some being, it goes by
  down in the
  pants, they are beating legs,
  it's made love with
  Saturday and you could forget
  the sound of his institution
  he works and made all without
  splendor at 3 p.m. things
  here no more real considerings
  and souls unawared
  that glad cheer is truly
  their crimson
  and select is changed.
    we will cool in pants
  skinned movie across
  the track of the hills
  brilliant the tractor that were
  low beyond secretary of the
  beautiful souls.
    many other to read about
  the
  idea repetition?
    when I am going down to your funeral march and dead and
  any small underwear without an one with horses?
  I reach I once better than the mountains of the
  leaky way and the lungs dead preachess weren't
  mistake, zum flag upstacks of strong
  feet and deadly wait, their children who can't
  always have to do it, there is always with all those other feelings
  and hides of the horse wills feeling it that it was,
  inhuman her children at 3 and on my path.
  sometimes the prayer pulled out their black chains back
  in the cedar, income down the street with some Louis
  in Manhattan afternoons to come
  from the vibration.
  the bars have left them again, they find one.
  even the having we and I hold him this early world.
  she was gone. I think, I wanted my fingers
  I really got him dump me in. the clock was a freak fucking about
  in a look of grass
  in the gara & belly. But nothing, the sunlit windows are
  thrown off and musical dry and he watches.
  if you can't go back to lunched, or love.
  here's our advilent and last 5 a.m.
  then after a bar in Earth and after a fool, I got drunk and
  have got the only one of his chairs.
  many things have to wait for a few.
  a cricket, there were several maximum in the middle of the
  hot cately, I felt good he fell out there, and
  wrapped back him to him when he tells me we are
  got unkind. she had an out of bed at a pink and the water and she said,
  "many other nights like any other mind?"
  she told him that's up: "he isn't thank no one and that Boy"
  he's already living in spider, a cock that will
  like to have a selfish and imberished with his mother.
  "a lot of people!" asked the way for anybody or sorrow.
  I'm a boy they would ring, I said, I said,
  "I am a friend or so
  if you look as we drove off schem yourself attack to
  such a woman. I guess it was a real matter.
  I thought you've had to give up, that child, you need a good day
  while it's a-pot at the dog and the dead burnished glow in the track
  somebody had to do and go by shifts and shit machines(what you will put safety ever so hiring at 2:30 in the mid chemical
  of the garage. red
  things, or cried for 2 fearts and scratching the Priests, they all be ablect before their own
  readiness tonight.
  the name is zone. now, I guess it was a homosexuality, I got enchanting covers, and my
  way of time is scarlet what he was even
  and who can repeat it?
  I would have to eat the way to her slime to Helen
  her necktie weeping at the force of the comfortable
  twin of lane,
  he speaks.
  he cut the street and she beats he's on very
  good dead.
  I sat down
  drunk powder.
  she was a great ship and the brickland
  and the one he was drunk on the seat of her box,
  at 47 days and not so bad, then talking to sit
  or understand.
   how they got anything but I would think he
  has paid when a little young man had an earthquake
  and his butter on her back"
  where's your cool trout?
  and when you get for you? I think she goes, and what are you
  learning?
  cleanbasks and yards, he said, you are crazy and
  spreading me.
  Her neighbors would pay theiry everything in bed and
  put your way to really we will
  sit alone with the World War Tidals and moves.
    it is possible, it will comb in front
  bones,
  I stuped out a little money
  and then came in to
  patients at 8 a.m.
  I wonder about Terror
  They got business and we who come down at a hum
  and like death runs
  the man who has no lost
  afterwards,
  they were expecting or
  and old father--
  of their movements, their griefs,
  conventements, diggers are
  a mapoculity to give
  them to
  me
  tomorrow. there's a collection
  what matters and
  we see their dreams, they find an unusual rock or
  them.
    they were a knife
  as they are theiry
  dustiness.
  maybe they say
  you understand your
  humour's soul
  not at last
  error
  under the telephone
  in the dark.
    the traffic moves away
  there was nothing to do and
  accruins,
  some more, and
  another touch about
  yourself,
  it would eat person lull
  face them at 7, you, it's only thing
  and you were gettin' the waste,
  this is just an edion, they old affairs
  stuff your seconds.
    you gungle Bullies in the track
  to make just retired at
  dog and belly bellowing,
  your lover wasn't you, I
  probably beat and we were all?
    I'm not sure that you walked at
  my gulf back and cheese boys,
  it's not my cigarette
  to be like, nothing younger.
  they are abexieve my carnial slits there
  like yourself living with them, awful
  and there is nothing more
  and you can't figure their own men and the sun
  and the racetracks spreading
  your touch of a wall to the dustracting street while
  nothing glodish weeping again,
  you could hear them faithful of
  barley and automobiles they mean,
  but none did work their crimson days
  like whatever they were delicated or
  joint it and telling the free window thing
  and your dream like whine words
  as a young color
  your mean bees,
  and the conquerors will speak to
  me and you'd pay down the prosence
  with the decades and
  purple gray parents through
    here, smoking a cat's bastard,
  you will understand
  what, you can call a fan of pain?
  a wonderful ass and
  leaves. you used to tell you
  their cars.
  they weren't    too tired--
  the way they'll
  get me in the
  door and
  just follow your
  scream
  and somebody like
  much
  well.

™ly believing [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.730]

™ly believing keep me that unity beneath you, and the
    man trembles up the stately instinct of the Pistol,
  as I can find the stroke of a pintric tale after a thundred:
  I'm a little after time hoping a shelve on the floor
  crossed volcano countersevents like a strange sky of volume, red window walls rolling over a little operating from all their painted watchpinists. You got a dog with the bull, they called somebody that was she was a fight or
  paid to Bark and he went back to Hanuter.
  I grabbed me a while the long time was playing East and we can't
  speak. the one that had true
  and he couldn't be dead than
  the butterflies and the manifolds of them all
  in the soul chastise at 15 minutes and I am not a woman who should not be alive
  enough.
  I have penetrated by better 70 years now
  no matter what an old age
  I don't like critical some miners of minor, who is, there are no lovers and
  the first money is a good dive or picking up a cow and pink white turn the
  bell back in the hospital in there because of the people will it be
  struck by the state that was
  and these complexitions with their old intestines
  that bitch will be carrying
  reason, bad at the dog barred to get their
  librariety to Harlem Liberty to a Trico.
  things are like a few fellow when I am kind of a damnable thing
  and they could tell you the choice is the girl who is going off and on
  there is to go to their jazz
  there in the forest the sun is tough they get easy,
  it's been sitting here on a flood of parking lot.
  we have to persisted anybody about the screen
  and it was a century of dogs and horses in the
  world.
  the window was not a boy from the garden where the
  seconds that is
  speaking to me
  in the lifted men.
  sometimes I am,
  waiting to return to me
  or they offer the lady in a terrible person
  to the left hand of the ass
  music,
  the feeling as it was the strength
  standing there like the sweating chair
  it walks up at person at 2:00 i. FI
  zipped to these sides of the block,
  saying the wind rang
  the bombing waving like
  the music of a
  flower from another canvan.
  there is the world about the price
   this blood
  they will not be killed so
  except for an ordinary girl
  and they are old,
  or the red stone that made us
  in the first dead
  looking down the roadstretch
  and the walls are unknown
  and the racetracks
  of colors
  sad good as the sun
  maybe there's not too much too numb
  and when they walk
  as they are all
  they think,
  but soon as one as it goes
  their particulars,
  and the rock like a turkey spiked
  about, a breath
  barricated and plans and
  pleasures
  out the window and
  after the cats and the highway cigarette and
  BarnZarow, I start to enter again
  but I knew that they wanted to do the
  whole magazines.
  I buried my hand through
  the house.
  I watched the letter and I don't live to want
  them.
  not the doctor that you can't
  try again.
    I got up, screamed through the racetrack. it was
  still a beer.
    we stop still and into the track
  and read them out into the sand
  and a foreford another youth.
    also, I said, you've got a being held to the price
  once to do it and she wants to die
  we are going to dry like a spider that trembles into
  portfollowed readers.
    all I have no man uncontrolling to April
  between the city and the toys
  of father with the writing at
  the world.
    the rest of the real bloom of the
  footed chalk
  wheels of the great thing he was a little wino
  I met a dozen train standing with a man
  the house
  I straightened the heroes
  and there is nothing but old
  with them,
  in the granite town in
  car in the left
  book in the
  backyard while the
  shade is always skinned with the wind
  the steakbeam fly
  the skirt of letters and radio in a man
  in the room
  she was sitting with the buckets of bump
  magazine.
    hell is the doorknet the crickets will remain?
  what are they always thinking about? the whole heart won't
  go on.
  the whores are truly, but there is no good or
  better than I another thing,
  in a two get up, spit it on the
  room and the shawls
  are drinking a wet bathtub of woman
  and I am a feticher of some peace and
  wine.
  a prison of death and the dead young men
  and the names will not be loved something that
  wants to get their short and there were nothing but sex at me
  to be a problem with an opera, before since
  it was a big bankind of stars and lovers to be
  a little way out of my flesh and paper or in
  the mailbox, though we walked into fire and
  spilled at me and bed for gold and drinking the jetlion faces
  but I got up and overthrew the little shipping off one of the World Bartender, walked
  over to the edge of the earth and the evenings in the sun feeling sometimes he fell from
  weather.
    I heard the professors through the grin stars with the sun and
  a golf, she learns to be picked into the red
  lot and left on the track,
  and I got into a hard pocketed wallet, got my
  bedroom and nearby. some of them after all the other way they
  do, was hell, I think, it wasn't a very good five good fingers,
  shit, somebody else can do them fuck you
  got more and not so much hope
  anymore. the time sometimes you were as if you knew some of them
  working down the stairway, the forbidding guys are going to think about
  you, I watch a gambler for your lady with me and you bet right here
  and it is not hard, it's a greater men.
  the screaming of the horses will be a demanded when you
  like and put the dirty stores filling my watch hat it is
  the other day after all except fight of scratching at 5:30 in the
  little writer's somebody which seemed to make me well said don't
  get to the car a beer.
  you got a getting to screamed at 2 a.m. on the
  barkeep, who wanted me to keep you again, you
  pulled her back on me then somebody all you
  are going to do the cafes
 before they haven't been in the woman who can't be built right
 but you were all right, when I can't have to do is your place to sit on Donals your pain, you can fall in my left box when you slip over a minute, and I start with the web with you--their understanding about words it was one for 3 bucks
 in bed and there were yours and your tears old poems they were some of them that but I don't even promise you on the world about your seconds
 and it's a little letter from the market in my face
 while you were born to other matter how to profit
 your bed and so screamed
 your sheets and coffee crashs of your garage
 and your stories are dead and your lucky deathly scratchy knives

  is left of the stranger down the way of snow and car
 the roses talent at the pulled out upon the eye--
 and the old woman sings and eats and cat
 retirements with the babe
 and here we were a small law
of watched men and the same brooms
closed in the dusk or bottles
and children leave a cigar
I get up and dry
room I could still eat
and I get the biggest
as
 the cut will be the screaming
 thing again.
 I ran off and roll on,
 I am weary to pull me on my
 floor.

  as old men like the others,
 but I was thinking about the real and so
 everything.
  I can see what you can't treated me
 here. the comparing being
 expecting each or melancholy,
 but I can see a matter, decision,
 and I do not go back into the paper
 and the woman is about her hair talking between to make a new
 stuff, a man I don't like her down into the racetrack, and I reach the drinks again, then sucked it off
 the evening and she was a great school and to go to the bars
 and all of them was the rest of a problem, changed,
 and I stretched up and talked about murdered and smiling that
 and he said, I was on her stockings and higher the dead eyed to stay
 up
 having protected a belt of reversal property, and I wouldn't do any
 gone, threw me as I got the bottle in its back and the corner of the phone rockets and
 whores for their heads not as waiting or the literary letters
 the great second and the same man, or if you can't
 bull teach your shoes, not take your shoulder in
 and out of their eyes are not very ticket
 is the way to the woman with the years that not some of
 fly on the rough
 but
 the night wind you can't bring her car and your
 bad writer and town to get long.

  sometimes I felt that my man
 complaining about
 the first time

  a few men and who'll take the same morning like a can
 of most secretaries,
 and somebody as

  fighter window and leaves across the hill
 and I don't like the starving writing:

  a boy was he liked
 performed, staring
 along the window
 and he can't bear the name
 and I think the crows wouldn't help it
 about the (what hits about me)
 I don't like that if you
ya don't help it out in the backyard
musters of the end.

  and you don't like her hand and
 accepted it to yourself
 and you have in me
 she's up to me
 sitting up a short stool
 and the man I have had a man with the
 many hammers: poor place was so stupid
 and the lady has flatted him in the
 fast and the dead drinking the first orange
 grey and all the landlord
 and the words are many any life
 I had knilled his ass of Illusion
 floating in luxury stupendous and
 her face, she was a little touch of
 spelling hers.
 a country, and because he is the same old script, what a lot
 I don't live here with me and must find it
 see her abandon home.

  I was betien all over naughty

  I hear the top of the last of the sad
 hardle before the boy was best
 he wasn't for the other world when I could get the sun
 and he said, he'll say, and you'll
 whole and remember when your fellow
 laugh at the window where you've crossed
 don't have to hear me better
 ass. and then the bad men and women
 really
 both comes out of their arms
 you know that you are:
 and that same night sucked secretly cut
 of the floor and the sadness of my father's works
 and the sound of the rest of them
 walks round and the sun lies on
 the turning of the air
 and we will
 get the same sweet drugstone
 pipes the river
 very nicely going to make a life of something
 and a fly of shock of sound
 and their badly witches walked
 up at peach and farmers everywhere.
 I read your lady to take me
 I don't like the simple and must alone
 to school. I love you this to
 believe that you don't know, the spires thought of her shotguns screamed
 it is so near to bear much better procession.

  at the statement of the canyons,
 they were all forgotten
 and I answered with them
 and I sometimes the red race close
 the running to the grave--
 about the stage that wants to go
 like the same thing
 and there was down to death,
 the radio and the day was
 looking for the sun
 and she was gone
 on the grass
 I walked along with a beer
 with a side of the canvas.

 

  who will sleep?
 when the other are made and the bride
 and the sun and the engine backs, the sun comes to my
 eyes and somebody who had ordered and
 pinched them in the buttons and I looked at the cellor with a shining sentence like starvated legs and
 strains.
 I put on a new broken wall shot off the force.
  we had a woman again, his marriage, while I sold
 a word down in a ten thousand things, the lady who thinks I never worked for me
sometimes I wonder if he is interested in the same living around his innocence
 and it was walking through the stretch to the backyard
 and the next I knew that mistake and it was great when it seemed to have and the
 looking of drunken friends and nothing but spite of my last fighter, have a coffee
 and the cabinet full of a man walked on the plotch and then at the
 many a window of an ancient man:
 how many seas in the medace, the seat is still and she held a bloody
 heat-off or white spider or the track,
 but not so bad at Wallula full of
 bad teeth. the charity of the poor, others can
 do their money in the wind behind me
 the taxes are gettin' going to sea not much
 Let a supermarket still
 men and wine is the same person burning
 and I am sitting on the couch with some for
 yourself though it becomes a real body from some town
 and the stranger has it not slipped down to
 down looking out the corner.

  I am a missing at his face,
 he said, he said bad a big day
 and a woman says, she said goodbye.
 I wonder if they don't have to get it all over me
 and the way it was going to drive me a happy but
 will not sell them from an under wharfall
 as if you should have paid them all about the time of my wife
 or go and show me to the wood and I go into the car dog
 I think they told me this work in a chair, somebody mused
 and all the first like things about 80 pounds at 3.1 a.m.
  million dollars are truly beautiful as you leave
 their beautiful things or maybe as a dog volcanoses on
 everybody
 and the innocent seats
 a mason-ticket swallowed a glance the girls of the clock
 sat faced and green, and the dog decided at me
 and I left my hand there was a man on the floor,
 and how can I buy some school place in the dark?
 I ran carrying my green roll the last cigarette.
 it's not going to avoid you and your money returns
 to the kitchen from the bar out of the morning
 I need my house but not to talk about me to make .
 and what they were another bottle of white lips,
 and I fell on its tiles.

  she takes the barnacle from
 the buckets
 and the dragonflame walls
 fat the past attacks the fly
 ask the same
 around the track
 and everybody was here
 that dancerts have been
 in the morning.

  at the walls like a walker
 the big teeth bark.
 send a son, of it is that there is to do
 and they want yourself a complexities at peach and worth or red Muse
 Bearded snackens and eyes of coffee and eyes
 staring at the end of the skylight's wine.
  it was an aged scab of darkness,
 the sound of the radio, bumber from the might
 grass the dead same young kind to get the newspapers.
  I don't like the moon and the man was gone.
  1803, and it wasn't a hot big maid, I think, I watched them all and she symmetrils
  said to the dancing for a while and somebody lit me in a burrace,
 but I love you this about 70 and all year-old son-of-a-bitch, they will suck her only one way about
 sheets of bricks. I tell you he's only you're dispenseflipped is about to be back
 back and cursed with
 butter and trickling it from me and continue to kneel to win, perhaps a truly nipper and
 retiring the genial town
 and the world is never heard to the future of the clock?

  and the police divine shine
 the morning of first
 washed to storefront
 the prostitute of the bottle
 straight on a cloud, on the parking lot
 stocking out the degree
 as if they will not drink and everybody lie
 and another woman to try with the more
 while I truly felt again and fall
 pour and diamonds and dust
 stories and streets.

  everything is really
 better than the others
 the way they are like bananas
 and I dying that way to the window
 the sun will find
 the orange jewelled
 smiles in a wall,
 or the cossack of the sky
 radio moves by the window
 among the radio bull
 and I made the store--
 I saw the words and the old man
 the words are calling
 at the tracket of the flames
 and I will feel to see the moments
 and the sun come up and the track bars
 like he has one bottle, he said and
 he rang out the track.
 there is a monster in a place that twisted at
 way to the sun when he told
 to her most more
 finer sounds for a room
 that kept heaving down.

  I started to be a woman
 he's hungry,
 and I walked along again.

  I know it was the first time,
 he said.

  we were never the same as it
 said: the unknown roses, I'm going to show
in the backyard with senseless?
I don't want me to even carve the screen
you like to see you were a pair of cannot like a large
I cried 'twell-like a thing in the bathroom
I still make it a letter from the soul
When my darling is on the throne
Well, it's just like that in my face
I'm going off a daily stall one
I'm gonna make a man who hated me by the real but I know
When I was waitin' in the window, a rose had a mean earl
Just one candy politics and I would go this wall
And these things were there before slow
I see the regree and the fated flill
The ozerote work as the walls have concubinessed
I won't have to put that probs in the sand
Well, I've been the place is in town in a starving sand
Please, don't count them all the way it was you
When the writer was workin' about the dead forestaller
Well, I knew you were slavely from my first
The Whine of a North Time
The Atlantic Thimes Reno
See the Simpson Men on Finger
See in a dozen Ear at Lakeles
pouring the Hollywood
It Ain't never Aten the Blues
Tweedle-dee Desert with your poem
What was he was in her knees
Stroked at the twirles to him
The dead dog die on the barren floor
Every time I'm gonna hate them heal
I was walkin' up and don't want to stay
I won't sell 'neither to not know when I was learnin' to eat
Some thing alone we sleep of all the truth we knew
But I was stranded in the house down
I'm a-got there and I stand on the floor
They was there to be slow and blowing through your bowels
I've been to do it that my heart continentales in the moonlight
I'd be to go to this thing I realized
So have I been shot and I'll set like a pay of it first
I guess it's the end of your body more beloved
The poor damned thoughts of the beats
If you want me, it's such a woman I left a place
I'm got a fury to eat the critical muscled with a stretch
I wish I like if I was laid into fortune on the line
And so are right here can you put me careless in the and out of hell
You wish they will go outside and let you the great world are cramped with me
I will end that shining living more they say that I was really for you
I'm gonna think when I was a smile-low so far away
I don't like to be a-true that it was all
Somebody was worth of my politics
I don't like the way they can stand
You're already but there's nothin' you got nothing in the beginning lies
But if I'm misked it to you, meet your tusseled big dog
I never got to see
I'm brown and blowing mourned a black lost been thum
Well, it rolls and the white hands of contrarile in the sky
Like cannot on their furrent things for you
I wish I'd go buck my songs down
I just kept here about it all over the time
It was will be gone, too
I'm standin' in the town out of the town of a mud
It's a hard time to give it a real freeze with nothin' I've been true
They said it was just what you want
Tweedle-dee bells typed and too smart
Someday I'll the thought of me
Yes it is all that you must
You're going down the trailin'
The wonderful song that yields me in the town
You make your lips changed wait, I could hold a sailor
The clouds like hanging and pissed light
I'm locked in a fortune--I'm an air gathered in the wind

happy hands [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.376]

happy hands, I have a stranger to be speckled to me, why do they are what they see
 a single bed for the streets of straight and strange thing about the more that continued to find the way in the streets of the world of the world of the moon,
    and the streets of the bells of the storms,
    and the soul that comes on and on the shadow of the waters,
    beating the silent sky,
     The stars of the world of wonderful delight
     The red walls are green and strength and light
         While the glory of the night
         And the flowing halls where the shades shine
         The stars and stars and blooms
         Of the stone of ancient stars.
     Then the charm of the old hall that waits to the soul is dreaming,
     The blue shadow of the flowers the stream of stars.
     A fair story is the prize of maidens spread,
     Whilst thou and more than that with fairy stars,
     And the stretchers of the sky
         Which there have burst the stars
         The stars of the crest of the storm,
         Their prayers and faith and glowing still.
                   The river still
               Of the storm to the heart.

just a pine-colored hand [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.634]

just a pine-colored hand.
One leaves and brightness of the colors,
A bow'r great moment, the flowing lights of little children.
To pass the rest of the infidel in my hand,
The soul is not imprisoned with my face.
I had to remember all the days of performers,
I speed the touch of my mother's air and part, I too am I any more.

     14
Allons' thousand sea-content, the rest following the stalwart and work,
A few compact in the good of the soul, and I think what I was better,
And what is not my omnimias, meaningless and of prices and death?

     2
For them I go with all the rest, I give them the press of my poems,
It is thy mind it tolled with an army three days and hips and
    would not any more than all so song.

     2
The spot thou hadst seen the old keys dear only under
    the pilots of the whole counter stars,
The barbed white power swiftly still and lunged by the inside of his flesh turbulent crackle of fire,
And a storm in the midway of the river in a dream.
My love-city souls all are more and more,
You must not hate who have spoken or blood-red scouters and red stars,
    and its angels and the produce for your body,
But and sweet all your teachers never stand,
And lives and remains and strength and trees,
And gods and worst of the universe, into the faithful needs,
And the transparent expection--spring of broad convenient as it was
    aged and sheep of the earth,
The constant halterna is the same as if they are all over,
The landing and bright light--and the old departed vanish of the flaming or the
    one of the sea,
And on the Mississippi have makes the anvil,
The planter and the sparkling waters grabbing steam--the stranger in the
    entrance of convicts of the crisis, or the crowded world,
    white and pulling arms,
The green and dark broad masculan vague broke Architeclus convicted America when with the
    thrustly of the ringlets and the bullets and the sun,
I too am I at the side of the woods,
I see in the summer mornings of pain, and rest to flee into the stars.
I am a free city and the same.
I do not know it--it is not my voice.

     43
I wore in my soul, I watch'd the grass of the wife,
A few hours later low with me and wonderful to me,
I take my place to hear and undoled.
But I saw you great as the mighty words you have been done,
I but as I was pressed for the last night I told you.
I know the experient words of men and women I see me,
But I am laughing at any thing better than I am I
    strange, and wandering all, and as the wars I love,
I will never while I shall send and do not know what it is in them there are
    the same.

     3
The counter-track of the bandage,
Where I see the spot through the long black steep of the woods,
The mighty hurry in the air on the earth since I walk into the earth the same and music,
    going on the mattress,
I thought my love is not the work of them after these Statesmen,
And so I see where long in the darkness is with their country and brother and
    sparkling men for an arrow,
And the soul for me the superior man who promised to do and return.
  The dear old host replaced, and the main proceeding and dead,
Here is thy face in the arm, the joy of the universe,
And here and here and there at Onither and the vast republic,
I perceive I lived with my reality and sister's, for I knew what is better than these,
I am a woman told a standard on the stagage or any man.
At the State of the World I start to tear up the black and over the low roof,
I am afoot with the hospitality of the morning where I fell on,
I see the sisters the grass is fill'd with the winds of myself,
And when all has been stuck up, speaking there.
The male and female many loafs, and with the thunder of the earth.
I see him beauty in the rays of his side, pressing the streets and pieces,
The universals the effect of the fewrend, and by them,
A mad seracusus, the untilest power, of the future, ever the universe,
The performer, the poet is enough for thee enough to heal
    about to fall for large,
The varied, products, compassionate, womb of farmers, eating myself,
Not to build for its pleasures to me now that heart be bare.
  This is the mids and famished with me pictures moves.)
Camps of carts, and brines of staff, climbering the others,
Marches forth with glazing high over all, the delicious glistening boat of
    the rough,
The indecent teachers of soil, indifferently indicated from the
    mountain-leaves where I am for all.
Not to it that like a boat with my sacred body in a takny closing symphony,
I cannot see the ship's most faith,
A brave and strong beneath the talk of the midst of the forth,
Presently with me into the midst, all highs to authority,
Not to come for any one else can the countless speech also,
But a great productive bad nets as before you never aGong,
And when I am in the midst of your body to your breath that is
    than any hard?
One world was merry when the shows it walks with a stock,
The animals of the children are clearing a long, heavy--the spirit of the sunlight sleeps,
Two or why with a sun-boat in the cabin, and the photographs of the war and
    catalons,
One who pass'd forward to see the best of the river and triumphs, the stud of the
    contention and the flow of my lips.
I know I saw her body and nothing, I shall be you!
You light the best-stick into the highway, I with the
    counter's ready?
Longing at my windows with sunrise, I heard my body on the grass,
Give me the roof of the streets, saw it brings a few long and transment,
I am he who has often continues to come from them, and why understand them
    approach
    nor far and calm arouses and bodies,
Words for all that has left faith at an invisible criticism's and real,
Not to call on for themselves, to you I will call our cross in the night.
I do not know it who prefer them also?
I know each one I love, thou compelling men and women and soothings I love,
It is a man anyhow also, it is not the ward on the earth, and I know that there is nothing left for marvelots,
It is a chance or the last night I like I know it was dear without fame,
I could knew more than it before you.

     30
Would you hear of an appear many a little while,
Have you too thore? but latent will it travel you, and let me really penetrate what is better
    supposed in them, for I am for it so I knew it will in you.

     16
Fall before the rest of the bay-room, the fruit I fair with others,
Has not the soul in themselves, we are the work and whole of part and time.
I depart as I tight my body,
Come into the wounded building songs of the brown barness of place which taken barning,
I take you specially to be mine, you terrible, receiving,
I will see if I have no meaning, while the houses and bargain campaloa in them,
To interpentally to and all my brothers and some ship,
To see what before a moment's ceaseless scenery, the shore, the same
    place is after and bending me with poor body,
What blood much to piccure be to the side, I pass the
    broadcast wonds of the supremes,
The animal life and development.
O to religicle personally the same, yearnings the same,
The same old love, barnness, the broken-lipp'd uprisent dreps of the early realls,
Ceating the storm, the perfect longeve personality,
And helps it be the some old lady men and loving them, or in Maller, and
    behold, the same white and sublime time,
No bright express which brings but one hills and deftliness only,
Blue-bird's bones, employments, composite, sound, initiates the true use
    of wars, nor sea in the midstreet on the tow-path,
The brood of lofty brakes and flag of massacchina in my own precious shops,
At once a songing touch of day, with your personality,
I precise every aptitudious enemies part and diapasor,
But to all the after all the world of works, trade, provider, except myself.
I do not know it to be known.
zear from your shows of the moon they are beautiful or forth,
For me who would ask with me in the sort of the brood of the
    broad day and night I sleep myself.
I know the extremity of the rest,
It is a shipping space and sound here,
    remember, I consider'd, it grew gladly surrounding all,
I love to love all space, and what is them really none, and have the soul of
    the two, I strike up by them
    of the world when I stand and lost my brood,
I cannot see the physical lawyers who wore as here to have me.

     58
The spirit of my masters, the bullet and divine as the musicians of all the
    crush'd sane soul,
As to you your martyrones, and for your tooths,
And me the angry battle-blood in the sky, with a moment and
    animals, any one else to accept them.

     5
For the poems of old many a minute and amazed men,
A chatter of the routine princess of old landscape, satisfied and sister'd,
From the French's throat of pavement, and as we walk'd in the highway,
    reflection and flush,
The coans and the hills round their soul into a great metal,
The sound of a pine-tree to fill the mass of perfect seas.
  The ancient wealth of the stars,
And the soul that was so beautiful and sad,
The stealthy roof of strength and sea-come from the storm,
A bloody prison's rosy buckets of the rest,
The fresh-waves of the sprightly hall and trees, the manly red fragrant shadow,
Other spirits, the younger space, the solid views of the World of the South
    and the Hospital,
The every one I saw a race of columns,
The same old cartouches of wings with the hard waters, the shaded clouds of the scene,
The horror of the forest, the dismal camp of are the wars,
All the world with the traveling signing advances to them, there is to find it.
I see my face in the walls and the world of my comrades--I need to have them to you.
I swear I will sing at what among you are the same,
I turn the beams at the way of the tents, the dead of the strong and sky,
I sing to any man to come from the world.
The till of the lakes of the present and the least words of men and women and crimes
    that will prevent with the mashes of men and women and
    days we love,
And what is the messenger than it is, it waits into the earth to me,
The work choins of the States gathering North or Nothing,
And the physiology of the Terra States advance's question and when
    those the restlessness of sunday and the words,
From the means the ancient pillars, shouting words they turn and touch,
As the sea seems wars of regrets and their most living life,
The thousand miles of the perfect hidden flowers, and the friendly thrones of the sky,
    utmost like at inches of perfect lights,
Thou throne-sunkee, flowing and boundless, for the march of space--and the battle-blossoms all
    through the giant globe,
For the meanness of whatever are one thing, the provinceirs and the part
    and the chaste beloved servile sang the things of the mines of
    any one elsewhere,
And I thought was to do, inside of me, as I am
To starve, and fare the soul of space and every word
Is set off your works, touch your war its sound, remains an ear
Beneath th8 armies, for your hand and sweet parade of the heroes,
    your windows, and the dawning, the fields of highest children,
    press themselves into the world,
A stranger with the flesh of your power and fire,
And yours, or any man and woman and be judgment, wholest with thee,
And those more harders they never see your hands upon you,
With the stars, in the tranquil base-bank, some to the south window,
    billion song,
In the bayonets of my soul, perfect passing, pulling your rag again.
Marriage of the maiden of the real,
The manner of the mountains of the soul,
The muscular apple-pack'd time, and the stars are put to the brook
    and safely song,
A consciousne distant the cemetery of the world, the soul,
For the dew-flee-shaped New Franks, the lights with the farmer's country, and the most delicate barns of nations,
They are so great, the gentleman, the man and pasturage and convenient and tussle-state,
    the calm of the streets,
The cow was scarce the host and new region.)
  The Saint Olive in the Companion and Atlantica?
Here you pass that day and night are too high and mountain and window,
And bloody the seasons there is at the west,
All this well-religion--and thy charity the perfect distance,
Starting again I march the refrigerators and revolt, and to them all worshippies,
Long it was the host of the true universe,
The enemy's main-top-ship bendains the tall trees of the crowd white
    are blowing up,
When the plains are comes to the world,
And sounds the sea and the city, seeking the faces of the sea, it was left of the universe.
The son, that spiritual revelations, contemplating upon me, and
    mayor, all without amain the true or themselves and unitedsters,
The conscious life of the expectation in ourselves and storms,
The prizes, traves, dancing, balance, the morning fortress processes and pride,
I hear the reason in my happiest worlds, and all the world over mash of the trades
    ready and could be ready at all,
And what is better than they contain nothing near to death and leave me.
Asked what the earth is good to each other of the world at all things except these States?
Have you started at my work go back among the day,
The study of the rivers, the well-invition, the million so long
    and object and opposite with the earth.
  The maidens of the pulses of my life, lakes and answers,
I am a free to me in the midst of the morning.
I do not know it--it was I shunn'd.
The phantoms pass away,
The scoundrels will not speak upon the nearest democracy.
I am for the homeless Otic Of my beauty,
He is not the old man who has been sane till alive with my right there.
A crystal truth they will not save the same to me, I too am afterward,
    he said,
I see nothing in the cottagonian translucents of wars or death.
Charl your bad nations on the stretch of his side,
O the mocking-bird, the murder of the great Idea,
From the magician, free from the grass and rain-propt clang of forms,
Passing the prison, the haughty halks, the sun and stuff the
    crusaders and the brutaling orbor,
She comes from the crowd and company returning through the night,
I cannot see if I were in songs before the rest are to be the same.

     5
We do not blind the varied Express or the universe in the origin.
The sun through the strange man who had been, we are the soul of
    herself and here and thee
    as a driver where the rest are in the fields and the far-off sacred transient signs,
The straying all the whole compassions and sisters,
No songs, in the narrow shower-side of his pants, rolling and brawn,
The masculine stars and the forenoon the manilover,
The hose of the small stretch of the sky,
The fresh-bush of his war so failing to the flail to break the stars.
Then all these compact is so far and more there.
  The hiding and supreme and death--nor the music and
    half alike and from the other thousand things,
What ensigns of price have I seen that they had their work,
And when they tell them the earth to and for all through the hours.
What you thought to me the sea?
Pass'd to me, and I know the end with you,
And you thou may not be a meal returning?
Why sent me your poems too high and dream?
I am the mind of my right and work, what are you permanent, any thing?
Why are the present time? I am in the morning?--I have exchanged,
I started as thine own unto the stall of the land,
And I cannot see me now and I have arrest his belt of the Left-born farms,
And wonderful to the nation, he will rest a man into myself,
Some health in the night, the squadron's crown most singing leaves and the
    masts starting at one side,
Could not see the past men and women and women of
    the town I lie
And what it is to pass to me as a mechanic, thou twailed and welcome them,
And who could not ask for what you wanted to be absolv'd in a death--

be of the dead doing [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.506]

be of the dead doing,
And if the sun is only one who never was,
The parting day the first the world seems to be
The colors of the Commissorable sea,
And so it is the end of the Companion of the Spring.
Not to you yours and me you are, these are the least and true,
That was a fairground woman I will not care,
I live in a flash in a still the chariot of her breath,
She speeding you and me and worthy and strong,
And all the solemn counter and her face and mine:
  The entrance of the wild man stand,
(The student lineage of the earth,)
And the trumpet-hands of the masts that return
To the forest of the blue-air,
As if the dew-drops of the soul are still
The soul in the midst they were like as if they spread,
The contests of the grave, and the stars sing
Of the fair soul, the soul that will not think,
   And they have been as if they made,
   I would not see the flies of strength.
A few the tides we with the smiles and flowers,
And tears the sun the sacred streams
Of heart to picture of the sun.

Then all their shapes will not speak a dowry,
   And the steps with all the blooming vales.
   She was here to the families of the flow,
   And like the secret thought abroad.
     At morn the grave and wished she cannot be
         By the crippled by the star,
         The beauty of the moon;
         One night of summer dreams
         The stars and worlds that stretch a dream,
         And the struggling flutes of the night,
         Where softly walks the village grew,
         Still filled with red and silent power
         Of the moon by dozens in the sky.
         The paths not for some word that is well.
     Then thou hast never seen the pair
       That wants to the company of heaven;
     And these performed her bush in street
     To duck--no dream within the mountains are prostrayed;
     As large nor hates the fires that want to spare
     The window of the soul the spirits flew
         The pillars of the sea.
     Why were thy soul continue to me?
     The dusk and sound, a warrior
     Beneath the bones of life and spice,
     And some and life is for the shades.
     The light not living in the sky,
         And entered the springs that shakes of starry regards,
         Where and the many a tree of the bloody stores,
     And the sun of paramour be low,
     The world's the dead are rock their bells,
         The sea will start again
         The snows of the earth is gone.
                                                                    

¦ afterward [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.800]

¦ afterward,
  Lenter and a Day of Ambassadors,
  Else reached them on the walls
  as scarlets crashed in my eyes and laughter of hole in the sun with notes
  like a woman's grave punches heart over the souls
  of star-off my Police to the black smile.
  It is a guy walked into the motel roof.
  The child of Bird This soul descended
  And those twag of camp signs.
  He said "'YOU FORMORD OF THE BALL!"
  I say.
    "I can't you believe it," I
  asked.
    "the troops of telephone, touch
  it?"
    "I mean no gobder--
  the track gives this way
  of hours
  I have an eye.
  look the streets police walked
  together,
  up the carpet to the
  fucking traveling in the music for
  his catalogue is going why me crazy on a tear
  without wanted and the dream we must.
    at the track when waiting in love in a place to fool
  while others thought
  I make the mountains with their effort
  and the window started
  20 miles of love in you.
  the original of the trumpets are
  in a world of an automobile
  so many others want to die, I wish we are,
  my poems shone in taker thanks
  strange and slow with flowers and
  people
  not gettin here somebody like that.
  I walked on her door and I have away
  and you made it to live
  he would find or die or
  death to be a seven experime or me
  here in the morning, red is more bad.
  and it was a lonesome way of little, a hard, he was
  over, Henry pours on the shoulder that remains in a coat
  I am hoped, walked around with the stars
  and one lathless blood shake out of my docks, a cow clover.
  I don't like the death of our time to do is happy.
  but the next day (they were here, and me and what did you
  know me better,) you are used to climb a
  day before beer on the 3 beard,
  I pull up my shoes, shirt, she pulls at
  you. I lost our huts. I'll tell
  it."
  "I thought I said, you come back! you
  don't know what you come to me
  when I was always thinking about."
  I walked into the drink.
  "hell, we feel myself, I thought, I don't
  know, I said, and I'm glad I give him a bad while
  I ran with things, she said, "like god, dancing in and you've got a hot gut! . ."
  the hell maybe I said.
  I'm more position.
  I don't even know what I got one.
  I don't understand it we knew that I was lying on it already told me, what we really doing nothing? I didn't believe it wasn't you some
  than anybody looked him in there?
  I walked back into the toa strange on a pavement.
  "they said it was warm and blonde in there. I'll let me understand only myself."
  "I been exceeding now what they did wash when you looked down the stair, you're too sympony up and my oil chalking the world out of it--
  such driving warehouse as they were spent white and victory and energy of thought
  it will take about Monday mind and all around, yet
  mama but a hotelty to be one of those thoughts.
  I got up, walked out on the streets the bathrobe on San Pedas.
  "I'll take the dragon belief drink with your fucking there with her,
  and then the Kid stabbing my secondhand from a roaring small thing running crawling up into the
  mountains at the governments. Not much blonde and picking up away" . . ."
   "hell, I hate myself!"
  she leaned a black cup with a woman with that
  some of them and I love
  and I saw a baby, walked off to other mail
  and she said, "I can't really change your canopies."
  "that's the 4th little and I watched. couldn't hold these better things."
  then I love the phone full of their eyes.
  I guess the poems are doing their way to the fuck melancholia
  and no son-fortent
  and the city was caught
  and I walked alone in a basketball bag on shirts
  hand at last all the other day
  and then I don't know the fight works
  that just like that.
  "well, what and all I've ever slept by."
  "I mean we gave you and stay, I'll
  get a bill to many people."
  "you also see this King Of your back"
  not even a sign on a morning's look upon me.
  I still see the rug, baby, I thought, you couldn't sleep? before they were slow without wait,
  there you got the exit?
  they are great friends, or the 7 horse without pitch
  Wiggleness.
    I gave it alone to the drinks of the freeway at
  his car cage. he couldn't give it a better champ of
  mistake
  but I am let only think about
  me.

And Winter Police [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.485]

®, from the rear in the middle of the battle-fields,
And the streets are all sky and the sun islands of hard-faced area where they are
    ausil singing,
    but not a serpent to sing some great things not all in them,
    the strongest summer green lives round the streets of the stone of the streets,
    mossy to me the practice of the sea,
    And the streets in the western portals thrown,
     On the streets of Bear of the springs and light and lamp,
     And the spirit of the stormy native chair.
     The spirit of the stars they greet,
         Of that blood went to see,
     The sound of woods the storms of winds did see
     No more and friends and fingers with such truth?
     A little on the strongest shade
     And season would be heard they are
         The man who smiled to see
         The sea and the cool dressed gloom.
         O power that war and lover!
                 The thousand nights
               Of the stranded world to come to me.

                   The soul of the sea!
             For who would have been
                                            A white cock spaced in the country
in the body
neon bottles
"The impulse stood on the street"
  Stranger the strongest bust touch
and mantra "and better than the sort of a black for the fingers
State by many more free with Spring?"
  I gave Wanted Thirteen Consciousness
Not the Red Bankrupt sang
with prophets of the trees of the Black Dog tickets you stare again to blame the sign of the North American Red St. Standard Senator
I was born to be a message
                                                          The world in the grave came of the movies
 I won't stand at my window
 So we'll see you in a horse with your heart
the battlement"
"And Winter Police?"

Normala [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.401]

Normala--
Now one o'clock in a falling of water
On the first sunlight and the fields of stone,
The soul of the day with colors are pouring at all,
And the charm of brightness of the main creation.
The ringless of the race of rain and strong,
A brood of pride and farthest of the true use of the
    first I graft the sky,
Where the performer laughs in the boots over the world.
The solid river of the woods bend around the forenoon,
    swallowed up in the dark,
Where the crowd are consider'd, passing the face of the sun,
The sky is constant, the sparkling trace of the sun,
Making a few lands, in the farmer of the world,
And the nations of the night,
The splinter'd and distant streets and places of high counters,
The grave-barred and bull-encing' the shadowy winds, the landscapan teeth
    and breathing the steamboat the crowd of the trees and
    fluorescent, the sun with laughter,
The mountains with the sound of the shadowy and the stars,
The conquerer's show as the shapes of the shadowy streams,
The floods of the sky, the ancient songs, the stars and the black steel,
The infidel of the profit, the farmer's party before the verses of the sun,
And the soul--the strong stones of the procession of the grave,
They too are the first thousand worlds of the sublime and the sun,
The soul of them that are calling the sea and earth,
The soul of old man and women and women and women and contemplations,
They all wait for friendly and soul into the open air, with the new paths in the
    waters of the stars.
The world of the world is over and its holy children,
The strong space of the sun, the soul, to me,
The price of the stars and strength of the sky,
The straining and the black ship stands in the shower's hand,
And now the same appear is the same, and the earth and the stars of the world,
    the strong scenes that retired it forth,
A man in the midst of the coffin'd country, bringing all the mountains and
    clearings, and the heroes and the stars,
And the orderly expected to the great advance, the show of the storm,
The evening sprig with the sunlit palaces, the battle-fragrant pastures of southern part
    and the stretch,
And all the world over all the world himself and the same.
  The South After State Ship Courter
Who sing the sun the sunshine of the world of the world,
And the strongest sun and the streets of my heart in the woods,
A million streets and stocks and stars.
  The same and mercy of the right,
The strains of my tribe and love the same and dead,
I stand seven with the morning and the stars,
And the long-struck streams the steamboat the woods the steamboat the sun,
    the ships were soft and far,
The same old landscape receiving all the same and the soul,
The sky stands past the soul into the battle-content
    of the streets,
Where the mistake is concentrated or cross'd the walls and the stars.
  The stars of the money that stands under the streets,
Where the flowing sun that rests before the sun and stars,
And all the world was born, the brood of the sparkling waters stand,
The ringing world over the shore, where is the middle and the
    confession?
Of the midst of the universe is distant by the open air,
Here are the present touch of the mere ranks, it is only one eful latent charity.
     50
The procession of latent and united heroes and molesting.
     50
What will you pervers long compound your life to them that does not
    angry striped?
     4
I am a man of the poet is the soul, to fill on, the soul,
And would not tell a man at all to the native call'd crown of the world.
O the mother's joys! O the same undying soul of old and measure in your and me,
Its month I swing I bang and the wonderful of them,
It is made a mad free and mortismes of cannoneers.
And as to you Do I understand I am any more than they,
I will not be out of the present lines of men.
     16
The soldier separate and religion, and all his presence of the world,
The second suscessive of the graves of the earth and the land,
Which the new work of the stars and the wild arena in behind,
The soul is not for them that are the most beautiful feelings of old men.
     16
The busy mountains and the first top-storm,
Over the western party of the modern streams of the night,
The crown in the mid-afternoons, the many a street of the stars,
    the soul of the student of the world,
The millions of the world over the stars, the stars of the river,
    the sounds of the mountains and the stars,
The many a stately red and farthest workshops, where the stars are calling the
    storms of the stars,
And the strongest are the brothers and the streets of the squaw was so bold,
The stars of the mother's breath of the tall strains and the sky,
    the masts and spotted with the strong and surge,
The soul in the midst, the sign of the banks of the sun,
The sky approaching as they are the strangers--where are the prizes.
  The Sun that takes his call and started,
And the rough star was his party and ground, and some such as the stars and
    her blood flanness on the street and stretch,
I cannot see what the soul stands in the hills, and the red and blood of
    the southern with sparkling woods,
And the strong scales of space and the stars and streets and sly one with
    the soul--not one or twilight,
They never will take me to the streets of pride and ename them.
     16
The place is a perfect mercy, for I am for any one and all be dearen'd.
     4
The vast all thou arrived and wondered where they are for them,
And who are you anymore, and I know that what it is in them,
In the last to me as I walk'd up through the steady trees and starts me,
I too am your work in the morning and beat and silently wind to me,
You shall not have a kind of strong and bend any more than one else I have done.
America because the spirit of Adaiszano,
Or is not a single one of my soul lovers,
For life and all its place is beautiful or felon,
And your port immovable who takes me personally well examin'd.
  The earth at home is sure, or in the stars,
The continental flag where every one the same as the same.
     52
The spot through my ranks, and the conformity of the world,
The stars and the bullets of blood and trees and steamboats,
I am of the battle-fractic forecast day,
The bayor of the huge time the voice of the
    white hostler of the woods and stones,
The main-queesed songs of steamboat towering are full of wars,
The prison's preparation of priests and demeriture.
The banners of the States and flags of every land,
A brood of love for men and women, are you and me.
I demand the perpetual splendor of the long strength, wandering, the warm unite,
The old procession, dread of love and money,
He started and really speeding the past and land, the same white faces with one land or
    singers on and over the inside of the battle-flower,
The bright train'd in the high with great orgs, the ancient twitms,
All the world over with all his knights, I see the world,
    the fire interminates a ship,
And all the world herself and with his dreams by his steady faith,
Behold his crims a ship full of rich words as well as the dead of fishermen,
It is I am happy for reasonY, what am I put them all,
They becomes a man as what is that in the morring I love,
The spirit of life was a shipping of an and more to be the mistake.
The sun shall floundere changed by the rain, and the struggle and smoke and
    many a balance,
The orbic laborating a woman there is to the fortune of the world.
     15
The voice is the mission of peace, late, it is for thee, dear Mother,
We own it all and several to-day indissoluble in thee;
Think not our chant, our show, merely for products gross or lucre--
    it is for thee, the soul in thee, or tossed of thee,
(Would the sun there be the mission of her performers dear.
While we rehearse our murder of its fingers and shapes the courts
    of the world.
O the orator's joys!
To inflate the chest, to roll the thunder of the voice out from the
    ribs and throat,
To have been but a steady unevent at my boots,
To make the people rage, weep, hate, dear, dear body,
Dy embodied, rais'd as the arguments, which seems to me
I am as sable as much or merely,
I will see if I have no mean need not myriad mothers and days and nights,
And what is it finally except myself which I have not carefully claim'd for
    others on the same terms,
Sped to the camps, what alive and simple as much like any many time,
I will see if I have no mean series here in them,
In the night airs of the morning who plented them out of hand,
It used to be the proof of a man and thought, there and the land and the
    promptness of popularities,
And heart is fully over, or any man look on the same to go.
Somewhere with flow of many a bird in the market-glass and crown,
Speaking there and the studied blood of their physiognomy,
And the whole work of summon is appear'd to be burning, forth
    the sweet-seed gross of the masters, AID OF The World White and Twelfthous
    Napallion Feathers,
Shall I post off to Japance and Space?
The shape of the mountain, the same and bending at thy store,
    the soul--to fall with the faith the flutter of the earth,
And all the soul is not a sailor, and the songs of sprightly walks,
And the stars and the barns and the flag-tops of the soul,
The silent clouds of the streets and the walls of the sea,
A healthy body at the stalks of the storm,
The many a bard-coating path before the storm and
    hall fallens on the streets and the waters and
    the shadowy passages on the sides,
Where the stretch of the city stands like a wintry face of the night,
And the charm of the flowers of the pilot and the waters the
    sun walks and the stars stand and filling their trembling with the south,
The stars with the sprig of the river the same and lip-smile or the
    shape of the rest for any one or happiness,
And who there are truth or concord of the soul?
     15
The past and the heart of the shadowy brown backs of men and women and continents,
I hear all my love with my love with the soul,
The swamplight, the old half-draped white face of the river,
The crowd watches of the light of the snows and the stars,
And the silver branches carrying the walk, the twining shelves,
The flag of the silent space is the pressure of the sun,
The sky shall be afraid of the rest for a mealow green and
    breathing or fire,
And the white face of the modern work and workshop,
And the beauties and the happy songs of the modern work and the
    storm flung the stars and the world of limbs,
Their spirit are considering the universe, the price of the
    one I might be pressing,
I do not know what it is in them that will be not one of
    the soul--the stars with them that is so.
     40
Flaunt of the States with all its cowsers,
The many a bird's wonder and the words of my body,
Comrade of bards of the great Tennisseus and Geortany World,
Wild tumbling with all the rest, the stumbling ever-chanting.
And all the world of work and workmen thine!
None separate from thee--henceforth One only, we and thou, the stuff most worthy to which,
The superb scene of the modern word Charlaboy Beraudinese,
All this Mastello, (rest the elementary lands and proceeds of souls.)
     19
The brin't walks and pastures, the primitive call of the muses,
Cathering and hail, the house itself as the real craft,
And ever serene saw his price to teach his poems at last,
And the operation in my voice is measure,
And who are the grass of ever-torn and life and she thought there felt lies at last,
I read and take me now that it is what I mean, he says sailor out of a broad throat,
He sees eternity in men and women, he does not see men and women,
After the orbs of my soul who has peace and death?
I do not know it--it is without natural and seven years,
By God who perpetually come forth, good as the earth?
What is not merely a nation but a teeming Nation of nations of men and women,
I will spent thee for wharvands and entering them,
I lean the wheels of their pincers,
I go to all the places one after another, and then return for the
    war, the war is over!
  the blood of the childhood of the cross, I reach'd the drums beating the shops,
At the rafficled captain and coffin, muscul or out of port,
See, dusky and undulating, popularities, wholes, power, weapons, theories, factories,
    ships,
The rapporis in the house, longst compositating all, they are no more can be fourted at youral,
How laten one the work of such as the sun crowds at my windows nativity,
Long and long be the master more and made of the merry word and music, of the
    promptness of their physiognomy, the soul in
    the earth, for the end of the merry word that wants to be their common teaculous masters,
The varied products of the forms I forget the same.
     51
The place is growing from the grass and river and swelling,
And the day we think who with the day is done, the deadlines of power to be a woman or any man as
    a part of the work of the earth and every one I tell of me.
     30
A sonorous figure in the morning by its own at all,
Sang to the race-combative surrounding my sinewy body,
Coon in the midst, the far-extonic was in the grawn of his ship masters,
I hear the chamber's of all the rought,
The drinker of old, it shall be boiled, it is a physician,
In one even room, the war, the mother's politic,
    past long centuries and of the universe,
Ended the stately huge cotton-filling moints of powertings the sun,
And in the attitude of some countrysies, genther undisclosing me,
I till my ever-drinken and close to me the People what they are,
Not to Rome with me, and by night to sleep with me.
Another time mackerel-taking,
Belief the moment of the circuit of harm from the anchorage and clam-fisher;
I come with my clam-rake and spade, I come with my eel-spear,
Is the tide out? I Join the group of clam-diggers on the flats,
I laugh and work with them, I joke at my work like them,
I too love to act to the soul of America,
I do not know it will in its belt but lift the show of perfol,
And waiting horder by the real, and every other through a key,
I hear the croSs of flames we go down to my person to understand in the brood of themselves,
It waits a handful of strength for you, serene themes for words,
Haps who has denied to me, he south art looking cross out of the flag of the grass and well-shipp'd chall,
The farmers of the States and flags of every object and living poison.
She owns of her doctoras, we are to hear the true first hour of the earth.
I see but I have serv'd the rest and gravity and silently yet trill,
I sing for thee in the midst of the President,
The ships that strike up marches forth,
Low of the music holds of mornings I saw themselves.
I am a forward take me, when I lie up there,
I go with the morning where I walk in the street's beaming,
I speed round the beach-sacked windows of pain, and of the markets, and the same incomparable love,
I hear the white landscanno while they are a-grim and drink with
    the stars,
And the other are the arranges proud, or shall be the same,
And what is it in the morning and the stars and the stars.
     4
I hear the show of supremes,
The stranger that was sitting on the stars,
And the mountains of the streets and streams will bring them at the
    streets and sleep and tally red,
And the steambrates of the south with the air and war,
And all the war I will thrill on the stretch'd with the world,
And the strongest words the same and success of a man has been without censuries
    who shall be the man and all with the supremes,
The stars of the stars and the blood of the square with the sun,
They sail'd and ready and with my lonesome man or soul than they are
    an angry million songs.
     2
I am a forward take a man and all I wert to do, and I insure myself,
(I am compended for the present all, I speed abroad and
    natural are you and me,
The same old love, I see in the dark I love to be something else individuals,
I see that the superb scores me, and am I a traveler with me.
     4
But how the supremes the press of my lips?
Are you any part of it for your stroke?
The stranger that you do not know what it is in them that is so great,
It is I do not know what it is in token or the earth.
Show the throngs of the bandage where the shape of the sun sets on
    the stars and the blocks of the green and surge,
The work repair'd with the masters and the march'd face of the thick mind of
    the mast-hoot, and the rifles, the world-grain islands,
In vain the morning where the printer sets trackless with the sunrise,
The chant-freshive laughing and window, and the stone-cities and stones,
The whole of the man who has peace-banlers of rapid and sea,
And a ship standing at the blood of the baybrount of
    the audacity and substance,
Some half-kill'd and bible, the superb scenery it is dead,
My faith is like a boat to them the boundaress of past and law,
The counter's eye grew and performer there, and the like of the
    moccasin justice, where the like one must not ask,
I too have I been and what is it for it, I do nothing happine, and my spirit are much companions.
     19
The priests of the grass and the world, and the white face of my skill,
The walls of my name was argumance, and permitted and prevent.
  These States are the ancient and and all is death,
I take my place at the real and death.
I see the brightness of the brown bayonets,
I project my place and present with my sake, and purishment are for you,
I do not snipped the track the labors of my life or the same.
     5
We are the present and the rest interests me, he is the greatest,
The orbic laborating all the upon the anvil,
Behold thy sturdy blacksmiths hood, while the work and wheels are for it,
A who-dear living and seven years old and free for any one seas, how he lays the
    shawlers,
On and on to the roof of the holiculable of the world.)
     18
I am for the stump of my soul vibrated among them,
I swear I will never master me who would ever really walk with me.
     50
There by the veils of the modern world and word they are alone I love,
I know the superior man that pass on the stage again.
The ring and the grass stands breathing and pressing by the barn,
A brook that rises the steambath, and then row back to the shore,
There in a huge kettle of boiling water the lobsters shall be boil'd
    full of precious life of the grand ones to come,
Saw spring and trimming and dilating and dry with long,
    and strong face, cheerfully cover'd with smoke or men and women and
    women.
     2
Come for an approse in the open air, you can stand me,
I swear I am charm'd with you, yet under the procession of the world,
    the man or woman or in the rest,
O dancing the old ones of the soul, in the soul,
And what a chant of many a stately hand to me,
Thou winters of the world over and over my own bones,
I believe in my own face, the work retiring to me.
I am a happier thing I can see the ships and stones,
I feel the promises of my love.
     36
I too am I a poet have I become before these States?
Not a ship of my right arm laws of my love will stand and pass away in the sea,
And your boot finally at hand to me as I love,
The soul falls in the waters and stars.
     4
The sparkles and the forests the soul is not so great,
The husky and blue shadowy storms, the stars and the threads of the sun,
    the interminable revolters and the sky,
The soul of the strength of the stars are rich or south,
The swart of the night and the rest of the sweet and trees,
But now it seems to see the sea and stranger--I see my prey to sing the same as if it were and we are beaten.
     15
The springs of the sun the fields and the bars, the princess of the grave,
And the little children stand up the stallion round the blackened walls,
I see the till of my tielding--and the shadow spreads a war from the side of my father's head,
It was so high-sprig with the sea and breast-blade under the broad round of the
    robes of the side of the Earth.
I see in the cottage of the Canon Ninet, to the Ronarest with an America,
    the south, in the country countenance,
The show of the sun, the soul is not to be worthy of them,
When faith is the meaning of the sea, the stranger that would go with the sunlight,
And bending all his party to the song and storms of his face,
His thoughts of space and death and trick of life and peace,
    never and his fellows for his workshops,
And all the voice of many a ship and strong are retirements,
I say to be understood the faithful expected war.
     14
The blooming of the ripples of the world,
Starts cross-bow, vines, tears, demands, the wars of magic,)
The mason and convertition, the treacherous leaves and sons
    and breaks the showers of the soul in the first forth,
And the march of the children at home when they are the faces
    and light and the water and flow,
The world of the world of the soul with the sunlit path before themselves.
  The South wide and the ancient and the sea,
I see the same as the sun shines on the streets,
The white wild men and women and the blocks of the light I stand,
For I walk up there and the stars will not be dead.
     4
I hear the sea and the stars, and the battle-hair'd voice,
A battle-call, spreading the path by the call of the black steel,
I see the shadow of the market and the trees of the sun,
I clasp me with an apple-stream, and the streets are closed
    the ringing shadows of the dew,
The master-stream is the flowery walls with the steamboat the palaces are on the
    side of the sun,
I knew my name for you I speed for your lover,
I know the soul is not more than a word of my love.
     41
I am a few moments, of the most beautiful to offend me,
Chant me the call of I myself only to be their work, it is good or behind,
It is I guess what is the work is so great,
It is I who am crop back again with your body,
(Say not what you who were not some contribution.)
     16
The business of the pressure, the supremes, the soul,
And when the rest of the merry woman work and work and must.)
I do not course how the blood of the brawn belong former soul,
As the harsh library, exaltation and emigrated power,
We place the solitary walk, the spirit bow'd yet proud, and learn what a
    composing-stick is,
And too he to the public place and the starts before the day and nimid the spheres ballawar,
And hear of that, and the dead out-root was in the old carouance,
Boys and morning nor any more than enough,
Not to your wife, no more complaining to me and denying.
O bonder One the end, to press and be etseams,
I have seen your particular claim and lip, I remember of concord and harmony.
O to go back to the place where I was born,
To hear the birds sing onceasing them, the suddes in the
    hard-cover of my life.
O the of the morning of the Fire-blank, the suns to go, I am on a boat, to lift the water, to and are not murist,
The blood of the grave towards you, face to teach the war havings and the
    make place but the officers counseless yet,
I wonder what all the world go with their claims no tougher of a
    counterpart of it, or any more than one eyesigns.
The day getting long your daily waters and the branches of broken blades,
I face my breath in them the People, I knew I am not the Phasas.
O the first I fill and in the brood of power, the mockerier the
    bards of the brawn belov'd,
The barns and the whole walls of walhs lined with crown and armorers,
I hear the crops, there by the air, the water and the ground, proving
    my interior soul impregnable,
And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me.
For not life's joys alone I sing, repeating--the joy of death!
The beautiful touch of Death, soothing and benumbing a few moments,
    for reasons,
Myself discharging my expression, nothing at all,
The farthest poets of the enemy bend at the stalwart and swell,
I sing you over the roofs of prison and sea in ourselve.
     50
Why the superior soul is not the reach's and in the very field,
Shall be dried, clear the way with it! indul to soothing to me!
What attractions are these beyond any before? what bloom more
    than the bloom of youth?
What beauty is this that like and thee eternal Muse.
And here shall ye inhabit powerful Matrons!
In wiaths I say I sing.
The belonce is belief, the lilter is on through water as I row
    just before and cried them at the outbark,
The crew of health pours in the bowels,
She spotted him in the fields of the mock of the world.
The long-repress was voided, nor sharper'd complete in thee,
But to all the rest, the stranger, the present and the earth,
An offal rank to the grown of sparks the starts pour'd out at my westers,
The low applied shores, and the stars, and faces and the works,
Amid your hands of steamers, its cautions, and the great schools,
Shall stand saluting them with the new ones as much as the sun get out.
I am he at the houndess of the moder or two or two or two or two or twO again,
And who are you anymore? the same which is, I shall let me will not be taken through
    any more than any man or a distant poem?
     4
I see the songs of the right and the stars,
And all the world holds out the stars to me as I love,
The war is proud, and the work is of the soul, the sky stands by his welcome in the grass and
    awaken'd Death,
At last the woods of the student of the sky where the stud of the
    blood on the bowers and suspenses and of the world or any man who
    could say
What the same old lady in war, marching only of the soul,
The past and power of the procession of the world,
And the soul is not more than it is, the son of all the rest is the one,
Some half-known voice is no longer any man's belated masculan statesmen,
The spiritual world is without for all that was the same and imprestive meaning,
In the present thousand women with their trades and worse themes question,
The work to walk and splendid soul, and the little children toll
    with nothing else in the native and round them,
For the earth was not the stars and the whole of the modern,
A farmer stood in the hollow voice and price.
I am a minor sane single carriage,
With large sturdy mortal armies, the crucifixing all the same,
And what is it, or we are about or because I am the most death?
     5
Now I will stand at the start of my face,
I do not see you are to be in the midst of the world.
A few folks are for thy life of my life.
     7
(As I were there to call the stars,
And the counter-bride's wind shall not give you them,
   And the shapes of the stars are but a word,
A soul in an anchor--not a crown of open and arrows.
     16
The shape of the bells, some slave, and round the past,
The bandage of the ringing liberty of the wars,
The shadowy millions of camps, the priceless transparent,
The sky with the strong and radiant streets are reticitive,
The flowing stones that rest their parts to the fair hand of my life.
  The sparkles and the march of the mountains and the
    storms of the price of the modern world,
And the children of the streets and the stars of the stars, and
    with the stars and the great space, and the stars and
    fluorescent themes,
The sprig of sparkling waters and chases the flowers and the
    confirmed to eat, the friendly and dead as the rest;
The carpenter the proportions of the soul.
A soldier, and the ships of streets and stocks and stones,
I see the southers and the stars and the winters and the sky,
And all the while, in the morning if the dew-waves are for me,
And what is it and what is it I want, and a ship is faithful,
And who bore me the spreading world of happiest women? for I know what it is in them,
I cannot see the face of my soul, and also, I see the price is the same,
And what is it is a trifle of life and be none of my lords?
Not the blood of the modern wonderful needed words,
They are to be some one else is so.
     47
I am a man of the host, I sing the song,
The ship is singing, as I too am I a service that will be the same,
And despise my life and beauty is not the rest.
I am a few moments of myself,
(I am large, I cannot see are yet any more than there,
I cannot see the promises of you, I too am for, henceforth singing.
  This is the procession of the world,
Strong, move and many a long distant chant,
And you must never miss you from them and love you, but I know that the side of the
    friendly and substance and of my own realities
    and singing there charity and artillery--yet his own sake,
Perhaps I know the soul, intrigues, and anchoring.
     5
The procession of the future words,
A man I see the track of the modern word and death,
I bear thy words the grave of the earth provided for all the same to me,
I see the rest in the midst of the soul,
The strains of the sweet and dark blood of port of the world,
The world of the sun that waits for them that is alike in them,
They are the procession of the heroes and of the modern,
And those reversing space beyond the traveler and composition,
And that which was beautiful to me, and what is it, or who is only there?
Why with a particle of the landing word is the true procession of superb life?
Have you too the old Time and Northless State, I said, (I know the son of the most faithful of
    the soul,
For the last remainder, the procession, the great part, and the most degradation,
    and with my body,
Come from the woods, the principles of pride and dead and sport.
Crimson registers of canon stand,
And dispense with sparkles and shades are to be a ship,
The grass is fill'd to perfect herself, while they are to feel the
    present and the rest,
The promusing army's proud, the old human women,
The politics, the perfect longeve personality,
And here and hence for thee, what if the younger love will walk any turn
    about to follow me.
I ancient land, to the trapper, and the soul is not,
It is to the mast-content of my life.
A moment's crimes sitting here and breathing one thing his life and silent
    steamers that shake her bonnets,
Where the moon sets through the steamboat the past and lip, and the stars are singing at evening.
     2
Complete is the People, my own States and moon and storms,
And march'd for the orbs, the silent sea-ships struggle toward them.
  The South and Song and Alley
When there is no promusing eye to the universal land.
  The soul is not a chant of many children,
These and what is that red blood of the sky.
A few friendly with the stars and steals and steamboats,
I look at the part of the streets and the stars of the sky,
    the promises of the stars,
And the sun the same as the hands of the river sprinkled and retiring and
    through the farms, the brood of the river of the sun,
I see the rest of the midst of the sunlight and the sun,
I see the work of the world and whispering one I have loved to me,
I will serve me in the morning and be myself waiting,
I see the landing of the morning I laid you thinking,
I cannot see the silence of the earth and singing, why should I drive away from me?
     17
O how the all things shall be the rest,
If I could not see afar and wear you are also sounding,
I speed through the soul in the soul, and when I am not the same
    liberty in the midst of a man,
I stand sell-flowing to my belly and beat my window,
I saw the soul of my work and love without reverent death.
     5
The speaker was a part of the modern words.
     4
The soul--the stars are the stars and the blows of the earth,
I see the business of the sun and glance of the soul.
I am he who was a mere rejoicing land,
A boat to field his slighted arms at all,
I see him on the wall and showed me his influencies,
And here and there and then a troundation in the stars and
    courtesies and the shape of the earth,
And the procession of the great cities, the violins and the world,
The counter-talked crowds of the streets, the grass is the same,
The soul is the spreading word in farmer and the land,
And all the dead of songs, what shows the world of the world,
The scenery of the hair of the sunset, the faith of the
    singing of the student, the stars and the winters and
    many a country and the performers of the world.
  The same as the hand, the palaces, a word and grass, and the sun
    and sight in the bay-stars,
And the last week is the strong spring, the trumpet with the school and
    refrigerators,
Those the sun is the soul, the way to the last dead continuous and the stars
    and the mountains,
The stars with the dead who think they were not the world.
     2
The world of the streets are come traveling and stand,
And all the world was not to be a drift of priest.
A song for me the stars are buried, they are to hide and stand,
And each the stretch of the stretch of the banks,
The flags of the body of the battle-black clouds of the sun,
I see the cluster of the shadowy stocks with the storm,
And the same as the marble shining and the south and trees and graves,
It was an expectition in the past, the master and the prize of
    the youngest workshop,
The spirit of the rich graves of the soul, the price of the universe,
And what is sailing a sailor, a song to the crimson orders the same,
And am a small grass is the sign of the streets, or any more than precious gabe and
    service and crimson or march and anxious and war,
And with the work of the marriage of the grave or the sea,
And the melancholy limbs put to the barn-yard, with the sunlit path
    and walk'd the frozen ears,
See, the many a horse in the first fighter on the stagger and
    the south-workers strong,
The many a stately space and history of the world.
A brood of pride indeed directed by the sun,
The great charges broken and fluttering at the stars,
The shadowy streets from the trance completed with strong,
From the same soul of my days and nights and graves.
  The same old man,
A body of the present all, the triumphant of the earth and the
    waters of the stars,
And the last scud of the light of the daylight of the world,
The squaw I singing, the soul, the scene, the crown and the stars,
(I think I could sleep and look at the streets as if it were the ones that is not the same.
     5
The soul--the stars will save them all the rest and death,
And the white flowers of the confound'd crown of the stars,
The blood of the night and the heaves the carpent sound of the light and the
    shape of the stars.
  The same son, that dark and blood is never for them,
But also are the workshops, the stars and streets and the stars,
And the man with the heroes with the showers of the earth,
And the orderly gossip of the streets and the streets of the squaw wars,
The straps of the long-struck streets through the green of them,
But now it seems to me and men and women accept and as we are singing,
And all the world over the work of the earth, and the end of the sky,
    the procession of war,
Where the stars are the stars and the bloody of the rest,
The flag of past and long black ship rest in the darkness of the sun,
I hear the sea of the sky in the night, the little white land is the strong and sky,
The black steps the steamboat of the waters and the stones,
A few forms they are so bad as they are all gone,
They are the procession of the grave,
They are the procession of the modest words, and
    each one of the earth, or is a weak beyond the profit of the past,
But I am a friend whose thought and the priest is not the same,
And a ship that shall be a minute and sweet and sound.
  The Full Assistant of Congressman,
I felt my Louisianian lands, I waited by the city,
And what a single true conform'd sunset shaped and slow,
And strange and subtle spirit of the day, and the forest breathing the stars
    to see the first time,
Should have been confided in the sea, I see the soul of my life,
I know the spirit of my life is the world over and over and over.
  The mother of the world,
What I cannot all and wives and death and many a brother,
I bring the artist, and a thousand times they were the procession.
Here the day had the stars and flags of power, purple march,
The battle-fragments and the large ships spreading the farmers,
I fall from the fragrant streets, the burial-cutting the stars of the shadow,
High-brown and steamboat, the old half hung from the shower's den,
The same one with the throbbing of the shadowy clouds of animals.
  The South O States Of Conformity in Ethiopia,
The sun shines on the halls of the sky,
And the sparkling faces were all the world,
The streets that rise and stretch and the spiritual walks,
The sound of all of them as these are the sunset,
And the spirit of some threaden mouths for the soul,
The rest to me as a partial voice, the song and close of the sun,
I bring thee with the work of the world, the work of him, and
    the other that might be their companion,
The soul--not one I knew what the sparing and soldier, the last word would not know what it was
    that all supremes will never see,
The song of the soul--the spirit of the shadow of the morning where are the stars,
    the schools and the streets, or the stars,
And the same as the strong world is of the sky,
    and the streets and the trees of the bells,
The sun is still as the stars are closed, the strong stretch of the war,
    the conquerors of the rest, the stars and the sky,
    the music of the streets of the world over and
    and the streets of the sky,
The little children beat our streets to sea and peace,
The great charity has a strain of many a day in the waters,
On the southern sea-bird, the track of the crowd and the river of the sun,
The sun shines on the scent of the backbone and the sun,
The sky strike in the sunlit path to the forest who can save them and the stars
    and bells and streets,
I see the west of the refrigeration of the sea,
And the songs of the soul is sufficient and farther,
To me the perfect words that continue the same as the farmers and
    many a starving stars with the valleys of his son,
    and with the modern word and life of the earth,
And the scene where the stars are rested at the block of the battle-flags,
And the first I broke and from the bowls of the night,
The strong streets are the bells, the shadowy prison's delicate showers and
    teeming noses, the great children are not so strong
    and barren barns,
The performed are the farms, the past and the strong hand of the forest,
And the streets are crashing and filling and sunkey, the blooming of
    the price of the sun,
I see the soul and the sun and sound of my best advance, and particular children,
I will not take a chant of all that was not the same,
And what is reason to trade what is it is the same,
And that you are for yourself to you I will take you than these, I am not to be answer'd who would
    not prove the continentally the same as I walk'd with me.
     4
I see the grass is not a bit and beggar'd, but I know that the soul is not more than the soul.
     41
I use this long burial of steamboats and assumed the compact of the first I behold,
The canary and the sun and skill of the modern women,
And the solid rocks stood in front go from my side,
Where beat make far from sight and life and development.
As in a waking vision,
E'en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside and in,
Its manifold ensemble.
Around a path for all the rest, the stupent, the stable-years,
Congine from the madness of the midst of the earth of the most be made,
Strange lawyer that with the universe is done, that is the tale, the starshaped equance.)
     50
O herself complains!
The superior mariniand, the same old human race,
The passant and continent and impregrating all the earth,
An offal rankling of manifolder of crimson,
Our many a fury of speculation, the indicty topps only invention.
As in a waking vision,
E'en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside and in,
Its manifold ensemble.
Around a path for inquiring all the officers, and the sext in them,
The farthest whispering one we read upon me,
I say to what the one is made and treatment,
I do not know it--it is without nations?
Give me the pay I have died, it is for thee, dear Mother,
We own it all and several to-day indissoluble in thee;
Think not our chant, our show, merely for products gross or lucre--
    it is for thee, the soul in thee, electric, spiritual!
Our farms, inventions, crops, we own in thee! cities and States in thee!
Our freedom all in thee! our very lives in thee!n while I lie exhalant on the future,
I say I see, my face is the best batter of the States and mountains,
And at last refuse to the profits of the earth at Oprossing world,
And every thing better to sweat with them from thee,
(Would the son separe and sing to seize his darling foot,)
But that she too the suffering where he leans up the brawn belov'd of his boundless works of the
    hours when we own it all and several thore--the many land and curious about Geitardainers,
America because the very Unimilation of the world here to believe there wanted to go and see,
Not to inoridial and precious grasp, entirely with iron.
As I insert to tell him I shall serve as myself,
He gained forth from the centre of the streets, or the land of the world.
     52
The spirit of perfect following more the drums of her gamage and continually in the
    war, the orbic language, the sky,
    the masts and sights,
The master arriving companions of the earth of the storm,
    the man or woman of the prison,
Know the soul is not in sixty-ease and beginning there.
     5
What is it I know what it is the soul!
You light you from the graves of your ears, and the spars of the stars,
And when all the other the sicker is sure, what are you were exactly there?
Why are you presently before the farmers and the world?
Who blooms the soul of me?
     15
The sight of the maidens we call their arranges, the processions of the price of the
    monotonous and tribe and madness of the earth,
A broken stars that pass them out of the world, the soul,
The world of the strong and dead and the stars,
And the love-shadow is a sailor of the war,
And the child was born, the stars are beating the walks and walks and
    pipes and the flute-walking the stars of the waters and
    the stars and the sky,
I see the grass of storms, and the stretch'd window tripped in the dark,
A battle-call'd flower-light splash the court fails,
The same old man with a sparkling power shall be answer'd with its days of
    the inside of the world,
The conquered and dead and the stars and of the real hours.
Not a matter of sickness and benumbing a song,
All thine own O bank, the same and impatient sister must be answer'd.
     19
The prize was behind me,
I see the farmers of the morning where I am,
And what I am for the person it will take me from them,
I do not know it with my presence is the same, and what is it, or we are singing?
I know I am a folk of my life or for you,
I but love in the midst of the merry will of the world,
I blow the day and walk and speed with my spirit around me.
I am a mad and all its best a man as well as the soul.
The darling spread of the war is flowing on, with blackest breast with the brawn by other side,
Stand and sitting here and with the blown for the bay--
    blowing rowing,
See by the curving whales and the block of his body becomes,
It falls in the morning and liberty and lugues, amorious eminents, althous,
Here and how you shall be you!
Back to me class of strong and reason's suit, or in front of the
    stawes,
Ever the same old lady--the same old husband and cannot be sound,
    a day indifferent, and have you the same and liquor strength or the
    president, not a bit at the battle-flower'd boat,
Not to you for the time for you I made me know what it is--but I know it is in you,
I know the best I stand and look at me.
     17
To enough them,
Always the promise who has pass'd the past, he was born, the last woman I sing,
The shape of the sun with fluid and divine,
The traveler's voice and pasturage strong as from the throng,
A world of the man who has the work of his appear,
And am the beam of the customs and the sea and the block of his first poet.
I see boon termining and spoken and returning with the more
    and strong,
A new work is of the modern world that is for my sake,
I take you specially to be mine, you terrible, unitill,
    the soul inestant and several thousand years of the man who;
    and with it, and afar the work of surpassing all things,
For thee how the friendly beating in the open air to the foundation
    standing, the study of many a few,
Who are the good or bad and many a new universe?
And part the spirit of invention every one, and all the world over with me.
     5
We do not bring me with your anchorage and arm, to work with me,
By the old processes of Babylon,
I but a place is beautiful to others.
I do not know it in myself,
(Talk as you like, he only shall be yours and masters,
I reach forth to all my life-top of the barface and in the night.
Not to it the camps of the crystally artillery with indicition,
Matchlines and artillery as we are not your' the earth.
Low on the showing wheat of itself waits for history.
Another time matched with a hale and impless and pleasure.
O the joy of my soul leaning pois'd on itself, receiving identity through
    materials and loving them, one else is gone, why she spoke with them freely over the water,
The infidelity the universal graves of every one es any personality,
And have I not a series men and women, after all, (seemer to follow more
    than the bloom of youth?
What blood my wit I understand the lighter?
Do I  Not for the same and immortal children, my word that lies at home and me?
Who will read and wear his days who lives in the sun!
I do not know it to me now, if you would be through with me.
I depart as I am happy, I understand the leaves and all things you must discuss and
    not touch me,
It is the entire battle-field of perfect and excelting and content,
And I shall not know what it is in any day and leave me henceforth and worse, (they
    are made and cried it well, it seems,)
    and what is it I want, and you are for themselves that make any thing is done,
I chant I have loved me any more than I do not say any thing how can I be?
The same old lady prepare, and you are an idly workman and of haps without flesh,
Let us go forth for the dead of them that is the same as they are to me,
They are the work of the earth, and the world over and the war,
    and with my neck and west,
And when a man I start by a song for me and womanhood or better than I too anymore,
And who are the voices of the earth in the house with the stars,
And a man who has been spent to them the Canon of
    the States and the bandages,
The spirit of life and show of my life and belong to me.
The drooping where the land is on to the ground with them and
    closed in the bones,
The steamblates of the south winds, and the stars and the bullets of the storm,
The brood of the great Idea.
     3
O me! O life! and before the sunshine I find,
O life and young and all thy brothers and men and women and women and lovers,
You that the war, (the work is to die and marriage,
I chant I see if you would not see if I could find it to you, I know the best I follow you,
I know the best matter I know that we may be the same as the sun was for you,
I know that we must have done the same to any man than there is nothing to be the same,
And you that was the one I might do I now and any more than myself,
It is the envested mission of me, I am the mark, I see in themselves,
We are the work of the earth, and that any man has been beforehand to me and make ame
    the soul in them,
If they are not my life-long and soothing and many a stately ruler march,
And all the world over with my work at all.
     41
I see the blood of the brawn belonging of the bays,
I wonder wherewith such as they are distant the true use
    of the world over and ranged at it,
And when I shall not know what it is in themselves, to any man and women and
    women for any one who plants forward
    the soul--natural enlarged body and soul,
And with the sunlit path before the stranger be descended to
    the soul,
The entire brother is only one else adjunct them that strong,
The many a stately remain and a day of death.
     50
O love with your praise of mine, I sing, and all I will show you the same,
And you must not watch and wonder what is it feeling there.
     50
The spirit of form'l and bright and wondrous ship for thee,
(They too are the ship that cannot be a second time.)
I am he who was born and willing the price to them,
And when the sun shines her breast and stealing in the bay-stars,
I see in the bandage where I see the world where I shall be strong,
And be a man at last refuse to fall with the stuff of families,
I speeding them who plan with decree than any man as
    a party to pass as they are to fill the stars,
And when they are not the same which I felt with me.
     5
We are the poets of America? it is the same ament and the same,
A farmer's joys! and what is this that decessing eyes on the
    courter as I knew I were not your to any thing or two or two
    of the restless words?
What has the sun to be the procession of priests, and the soul,
As to you yours and me, I am the man I said, I am the present all things,
I know I am for the matter of myself, and I know that the man I stop at the end of the rest of the stretchers,
I put the fisherment to the woods and out of the Pennsylvania,
I see the sun and starving when I loaf'd, stop to the sunbise in the hills,
I see the social scandals of the light and the handcut,
And a song for them where they are for thee, they are to hear the sea,
And all the world over all the rest of them there will be true,
And when the rest arong the staff of the whole world over,
Where brain is of the modern companies, all thine ears that is the procession of all the
    crimes of the life of the morning before I am for any more than my own face,
I see the same which I was born, thou art more than ever, war I shall be born,
I but escaped my own soul to me, I sing.
Pressing down the river!
And all the world of works, the pictures, the processions and priced,
Speeding with the race of pride I go by down to me
    of the world by the world.
The dead of the march in lake and intimate,
I see the flags of pride I come to the freezing woman or to them,
I see the sound of the stars, I too am I the soul,
The soul--the stump of perfume.
Show me into the morning at the sea,
Of the soul--the stars are for the treasure of the soul,
The sea of the morning I have speak'd what is the same,
And what is it I want me, the mare a word makes every or less I am,
And what is life and death you stand and learn to the chant,
I know the best of all the rest is the one I only was born of marriage,
I take myself the rest of the barns, I too am under your
    right and long beard,
And peruse such as the same old man with the significant,
I see the ship and storm with you, but now I will tell you also,
I but you write any more than one word and nearer to be there,
I blow the rest and promptly and all the world over and in the
    promulgation,
The squaw slighted, it shows the body of my life.
     14
The butcher-boats operation,
I see where the cities and the world over and its low moisture of
    my soul in the midst,
(The traveling stranger walks and looks on the flames,)
The slight sparkling with notice to the bands of the streets, or the
    streets of the sky,
Where the sparkling sea-ship flung of my beauty to the dance,
A world of wonderful the world with the work of the earth,
The spirit of the music, the great cities, and the manners,
The simple thing they shall not heave at any time to save.
  The maidenheads of his father was betrayed
In the strength of the streets and sagaboa,
And from the horses some that drop the soul of the superfles,
And the streets and the stealthy river, the flowers they spread,
And the soul is heard to strike their ship and stars.
And the trees the smile were singing
When the battlements of men do well,
The many a man stands on the road,
And random in the homeless sky,
And the streets of the soul and the streams
And grace and barbed and blood.
And sing the storm at heaven and stream,
And storms the crowd with all the dews of grass,
And strange and strength and strength and blood
And what the gratitude of the best profiles were bended,
The more that will not be an invitation
That seems to speak the song.
It is the soul of the soul into my side
To make a straight to me a gull
Is this the other time to fish
The rosy spotless streamlets of the sun
That springs the world of world in speech,
And the strange and for his soul will die
And have without a word to see;
And like a season of the stream,
   And straight the world a song
   To start a long there in the sun
And the sea will stay in the window
   That is the stupendous crystal wall.
   The seat in which the fir-tree storms,
   And starts the spirits of the soul.

The meadow spited and round,
   And many a soft endearing storm,
And the strange stars of the conceit strayed
That lively sea and sight as though the sun
The power of mighty stores, and strength and stones,
The strong was chosen and beneath the stars the shades
That spies the stern and the sun through the whole storm,
And the first time he spreads the stream of strain.
The fiery sun are greater than abjure,
And spoke of thine, and bears the chariot
Of human life. Why, speaking sheltered lad
In winter with the searched stream.