Echoes

What would Vera have done with a gun when she mistook the blind woman for a ghost? I shall buy a trading vessel and go to sea. I will not stay with you. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting and taking. In her garden was a sundial, and I cannot think of sundials these long years since without wincing. Where are you rushing to, Propertius, speaking willy-nilly about Fate? Doing irritating things with our hands. The green of the Slalom cigarette pack. While under its storm-beaten breast/Cried out the hollows of the sea. I will come out to meet you as far as Bartlesville, OK.

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