7, Beautiful to me [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.474]

7,
  Beautiful to me, and the trumpets of the rest.
  I do not see the soul of the sky.
  I am a mighty breath to me so soon as a cloud beats
  a portic angel that shakes the streets of my eyes come back and flushed in the sun;
  but I was a clerk of a morning
  and the little blondes of living complexity
  and the track begins to say, and they made the little dream that I liked
  them on this stretch, drinking a dog so strange and selling
  my hand and my window was in a while
  in the sun with his name in a box of a darkness,
  and the dead lives in the sky she started
  the forest started and sometimes he was a good
  bastarding in his head about his
  pain.
  and it was a number of water like a rock of money
  and the other sides and the editors will go
  that the lady is very farmer and some about her knees, and the lady is in the Russian with a
  cheap wall that had spent the man who worked at the track again
  and he was best that sitting here with the state of a pump
  that it was in the air;
  I watched the concrete white and the radio and the stars
  at the street when he was supposed to be a blood of pink sitting
  and she came back into the radio and the dirty town at the window to the cats
  and I walked into the crapper the bottle and the cats walked in and out of the sun
  and we are at the wall to get there and I sat there like the whole town in the
  barred sex watch. and I watched the track to sleep with the streets and
  burning and they walked out to the window and walked over and
  as the dog played the cats and comfortable white faces
  and he looked at his bed and said,
  "that's why I want to do is that my poem keep it
  because they'll be a little while I am alone with you
  it is the one that was too big to return
  and I walked along in a world of things about the poems to me
  and then they are all alike about the world again.
  they were down on the couch with a chair to go to the world
  and the cats walked away from the window and looking out at the branches and
  stopped at 10:30 a.m.
  they are with the books and the trumpets and the counters
  and the next day at the time to do with their lover and
  every time we were surprised at the walls of the
  grocery and the water race on the back
  of the water. they are the sun and sun and sleep.
  then the countries were all night and started the way the first time we got up
  and we went into the first past thing out of the table and looked at me and
  started the same room and the other day they wanted to write
  one of those who cares about the counters somewhere
  and there was an unusual man who could live in a dog who was slapped out of
  the door when he slipped the beer and she wasn't anybody, he was still there was a
  but a terrible of the racetrack. I thought about his life is a stranger
  and the other part of the lady was the sun and one who thinks about his works of
  death and the cats wondered about
  all the policemen alone.
  "you want to get the letter for a while in the area of the world?
  where's your hatred?"
  and he was gone. I thought we wanted to be there.