honey people murder mercy U.S.A. . . .
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At last I can be with you!
The grinding hours
since I left your side! . . .
A brilliance takes up residence in flaws—
a brilliance all the unchipped faces of design
refuse. The wine collects its starlets . . .
Still sits the school-house by the road,
A ragged beggar sleeping;
Around it still the sumachs grow, . . .
In musty light, in the thin brown air
of damp carpet, doll heads and rust,
beneath long rows of sharp footfalls . . .
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground, . . .
There lies a somnolent lake
Under a noiseless sky,
Where never the mornings break . . .
Where is the promise of my years;
Once written on my brow?
Ere errors, agonies and fears . . .
heavy-headed will, . . .
I walk the purple carpet into your eye
carrying the silver butter server
but a truck rumbles by, . . .