O manhood, balanced, florid and full.
Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.My främmande slot machine black voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified?A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark, Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported, The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again.This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician.I do not gratis online spel webbplatser jackpot party know what is untried and afterward, But I know it will in its turn prove sufficient, and cannot fail.We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you!Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!Continue your annotations, continue your questionings.My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me at night, Crying by day, Ahoy!
Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you!
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Easily written loose-finger'd chords-I feel the thrum of your climax and close.This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and.This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place, The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.) 17 These are really the thoughts.In at the conquer'd doors they crowd!Here and there with dimes on the eyes walking, To feed the greed of the belly the brains liberally spooning, Tickets buying, taking, selling, but in to the feast never once going, Many sweating, ploughing, thrashing, and then the chaff for payment receiving, A few.3 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.And what is life?Not words of routine this song of mine, But abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer bring; This printed and bound book-but the printer and the printing-office boy?Will you speak before I am gone?I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, But call any thing back again when I desire.