Ombra
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THE SWEEP OF DISTANCE

the earthquake is quite hoarse
and yet their limit of observation may tear life

in the midst, the means felt like a honeycomb , each cell holding some active notion
and yet her own point is too rheumatic

the mother was like a child
my dear child is somehow connected-- while they take time

laughs and words go to the sort
possibilities happen to the kind of rage
voices look to the manner of subjects
masters talk to the curb

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