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How can I not bestow upon you
the choicest adjectives
the oldest of nouns –
The burn-burn, the sing-sing
And all that is sensed with mirror sounds.
How can I not leave upon you
the marks of my longing
my sleepless dawns -
The moon-moon, the sun-sun
And all that is sucked into your bottomless yawns.
How can I not rest upon you
this marble head, these deadened arms
this bag of bones, this fallow farm -
The hum-hum, the sting-sting
And all that crawls in its wicked warmth.
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1 comment:
Liked the moon-moon, sun-sun, hum-hum, sting-sting . . .
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