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A DREAM OF BURIAL Nothing was left of me But my right foot J O And my left shoulder. They lay white as the skein of a spider floating In a field of snow toward a dark building Tilted and stained by wind. Inside the dream, I dreamed on. A parade of old women Sang softly above me, Faint mosquitoes near still water. So I waited, in my corridor. I listened for the sea To call me. I knew that, somewhere outside, the horse Stood saddled, browsing in grass, Waiting for me. 59 ...

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