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THE DEMOISELLE (3)
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“A device that moved back and forth constantly, he decide, ought to produce… a mosaic.”
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“A device that moved back and forth constantly, he decide, ought to produce… a mosaic.”
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“As we neared the demoiselle, we could hear the ticking sounds it was emitting.”
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Oh in your slimy seal-womb hide me./My last earth-breath expands inside me.
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“And what are you worth,/old man, if you can’t rouse the earth?”
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“White whorls of brain-stuff, thought in leaping arcs,/empty bottles rolling in sad parks.”
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“Charms, curses, laments, shamanic hallucinations, creation stories, health remedies, farming tips, song-battles…”
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“Birds you creak, don’t speak, you grow old/in this home-destroying cold.”
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“Feel the emptiness, feel the yearning,/feel your grosser elements burning.”
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“Behind me, the busy flames,/
the fun and games, the toppling frames.”
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“Until I can get up into this trance,/all is randomness, all mischance.”
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“Should I lay down my war axe / and sit in the shit / and rotate beautiful colors in my bluebottle thorax?”
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“Out to sea, out to sea,/where the albatross ungainly dives/and the cunning anchovy thrives!”
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