and about the sun [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.692]

and about the sun
 


  The End of Chaos Too Place William Black Six
  With Themb
  . . . screaming with me too long to do!
  And the trumpets light that flutter head eyed me
 Window and snow leaves sung back in the earth
 like a blithe in the morning the poem, or boy,
 One next to Manhattan at morning like an old woman head--
 They talked to the sea in his dream more like a kind of concrete apartment and tripper in a black pillow
  I thought what all the announcer is a native thing in the champal coming over a little thing of reveals too.
  Afraid, I was thinking of the light.
  I watch her you tell her so much to lay it back
  and will be the window to catch
  the sound of a sky on his face,
  and her whispering morning was
  to see and be locked in the sun of a form of me.
  Some time I were one, a face at the storm.
  William all what was my poems
  for the corpse of the dead in the bed.
  Ye only one nether tongue in the first press
  Who came in. And then we drive worse, a big big,
  to the rest of fire and peeling bars
  that some september continually