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123 Rain Rain is not surrounded by sleep like a drum that pours song for song all the body’s soft weakness. That’s why I’m afraid. So I don’t feel sorry, o chatter of birds’ wings in the clouds. white fish in reeds Hold me til only,          these are my      clothes         I sit Give them more songs than Give them         more songs than the flower These are my clothes         to a boat        Streets have no feeling Clouds move Are people woman? Who calls you on a sun shirt sleeves down his ecstasy The hair you are becoming?       Mmmm 124 That this temperate is where I feed    The sheep sorrel flower is And I want to be among all things that bloom Although I do not love flowers in the desert I Today the arrows of        the sun shoot        down I need the Solomon Islands        to show me II all the cranes        rocks all the things III Outside how the sun is awake       What a light So wide! IV Autumn . . . The dogs know this city ...

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