Only a fox whose den I cannot find.
Before those virile women!
Summer bees were saying
Toward the still dab of white that oscillates
That square�Oh, 56 x 56
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
Blurring the terrain,
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
demonstrating their talent for comedy�stroke
grow hot in the parking lot, though they're
Against which we have been projected? What . . .
IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
And off the white smoke swims
IV. The Paths to Cathay
The high whites spread over the buried earth.
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
My only thought is for what has
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Before those virile women!
Summer bees were saying
Toward the still dab of white that oscillates
That square�Oh, 56 x 56
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
Blurring the terrain,
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
demonstrating their talent for comedy�stroke
grow hot in the parking lot, though they're
Against which we have been projected? What . . .
IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
And off the white smoke swims
IV. The Paths to Cathay
The high whites spread over the buried earth.
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
My only thought is for what has
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
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