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184 lYnne PATTIson Who But I Admit me to your story Irregular and passionate Admit me to your possible Your cold shiver eyes Wells of uncanny light—a door Who but I In this cold light rushed The nude sky to risk Your deafening thunder All the mild days—rain A cold shiver—travelers bypass this door I come kicking errors and lies down the green streets 185 Considering rumours Of drowned voices—voyeur angels To learn sudden order bred of sweet silences bone tight cold—the wish of sand parch For the sweet stretch and warm arch of lawn ...

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