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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 Like a clean sea-wave. I breathed-in, instinctively, From the one-two, one-two counts Ofthe soft-rocking cradle As drinking from a universal spring older than the sun: Listen) ever-deafnumbers. Hail! I hail you Geometry! Algebra! Arithmetic! Numbers. There is this wave ofmatched, watched numbers In my school-soul. Sometimes it is like smoke: I can't get through it. Sometimes I believe that you've put put in place ofmy heart Inhuman logic. Coldness beyond bearing. And yet ... because ofyou My intelligence has grown far beyond me from the frozen, radiant center Ofthat ravishing clarity you give: give to those Who most truly love you and can find you: Triangle gone luminous! Judas -Geo1lJHeymJ resurrectedfrom under the iceMark . Hair, one strand ofit, can curl Over your forehead like a branding-iron. And meaningless winds and many voices can be whispering Like creek-flow, staying and going by. But he runs close to His side like a mongrel, And in the sick mud he picks up everything said To him, and weighs it in his quivering hands. It is dead. Ah, most gently in the swaying dusk, The Lord walked down Over the white fields. Ear by ear, green by green, Yellow by yellow, the corn-ears, the stalks, the sheergrowing Glorified. His feet were as small as houseflies, as they were perpetually being Sent-down step by step From the golden hysteria ofHeaven. Judas / 405 ...

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