he boil beauty and wild beast only to circle station here with rain and there supplant Babylon in quest of Stephen the pigeon"s pain in air that christianly will induce his call of life
King is perpetual as fox in law and he will tender there as well his squad that shall stoke alarm to capitalize streets with guns as no one is dead and soon they'll care.
a scab turn punk to martyr like disease was the art for some future refinement to paint with a sponge in whether or not a cape would subside in Ayer with hare of mine
her spirit is there today with her dime that fear her face like Nefertiti but in a garage that fit her sleeve these peeves roar her suffrage but shakes her clams in a menagerie
I'm with her that aspire to a height never fore wherein clear as pleasure is nigh its kind but herd is rare aside a tree and this auspice is ours for a lasting change
a stately lacquer there that dance would wax *** in this donor but wore queerish charms that made an alarm on her border which drew horse with wish of stoning ice in this accordance
My half of the world's fast asleep Both hands stretch to twelve in a reach And as their minds fill with dreams, I fill paper With the spilling of my blood and ink