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110 shalloW​sky In​the​deep​houses,​cellars​speak​alone till​whisper-​ eucalyptus​finds​his​home— but​stripped,​and​sodden,​like​a​man​gone​by and​idly​ruined—what​once​grew​so​high. Now​the​deep​houses​are​not​the​only​gone. His​voice​shows​that​more​endings​have​been​done. And​endings​having​done​the​endings,​when will​endings​come,​and​where​can​endings​go? Inheritors,​we​wait​for​it​to​show. Not​in​the​desperation​of​deep​sky or​finitude​of​observation.​I have​peace​without​that​plenty.​Shallow​sky unclench​my​fist,​and​sun​lie​on​my​eye across​my​nose,​and​tell​me​how​to​die. And​it​might​come​tomorrow.​Many​men had​their​tomorrow​yesterday.​For​them I​love​a​bomb;​it​ends​me​just​like​them. Not​in​the​desperation​of​deep​sky or​finitude​of​observation.​I have​peace​without​that​plenty.​Shallow​sky unclench​my​fist,​and​sun​lie​on​my​eye across​my​nose,​and​tell​me​how​to​die. ...

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