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Well, in that branching boat, he'll run Us down, league for league down down to The last ofthe sea's center-speeding Center-spreading and ropeless knots. Green blue Time space distance: starting from the shore white His arms ofunhealable, veined copper Raise to Heaven a breathing blue ax. Nameless (near Eugenio Montale) Sure. All the time I come up on the evil over us ofjust living: It's been the strangled creek that still tries To bubble like water it's been the death-rattling leaf Dried out for no reason and the tripped-sprawling horse. As for anything good: you find it for me And I'll look at it. All I can come up with Is an enclosure: the religion-faking sun-blasted rack Ofdivine Indifference. As I say, Sure: It's the statue in its somnolescence Ofprimitive, hectored stone. It's noon And cloud and the falcon in circles, Who planes, as high as he can get, For nothing. Math -LautreamontNumbers who can't ever hear me I'll say it anyway All the way from my age-old school. You're still in my heart, And I can feel you go through there . Head-Deep in Strange Sounds: Free-Flight Improvisations from the unEnglish / 404 ...

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