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The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a gratis blackjack vinde rigtige penge good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
Smile, for your lover comes.
The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels, They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust.Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams, Now I wash the gum from your eyes, You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life.If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you!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.How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of blood!Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you!Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me, Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there, I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist, And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon.I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, (They do not know how immortal, but I know.) Every kind for itself and its own, for.I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen.My breath is tight in its throat, Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for.
Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.
A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.
The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore.
35 Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?
My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite, I laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of time.This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe.Is he some Southwesterner rais'd out-doors?The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad.See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that, Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that.If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip, And in due time you shall repay the same service to me, For after we start we never lie by again.Easily written loose-finger'd chords-I feel the thrum of your climax and close.We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.