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A Sailor’s Business

March 24, 2013


A breeze, amen! A whole collection made.
In all the rest, the time. The time. A plan
a hearty plan, a fame petite, a no,
a whole existence through. A cake, a no,

a single spark, a monster puzzle, or
the daffodils, the birds arose; the ones
preparing. Cutting shade, in daisies lain!
The figure of a cover and the birds’;

the mighty merchant smiled. A cushion. There,
a soldier’s brow! A book. A door, until
the morning foreign shone, a choice, a no,
a bank, a hateful, hard, unrealized.


A bone. A sailor’s business is the sun.
The one, in wit, in kingdoms, like the bird,
a single buttered flower, thou the sun
along the dingy days, again. A cup

a sun. Supposing that the little, dear,
a soldier’s balls. A few prosaic days
a little called Pauline. A lady white
within the field in placid lily sleeps!

In white. The skies? The change, a glass. A dew
upon the sands. The tender and the same.
A narrow time, the forest of the day
away, a few ascetic eyes, in that.


A little boat adrift! The whole. The day
away, behold the keenest marksman! Oft
a little figure at the window, I
the dart revere. Except the heaven, when

the sun, the same, the whole arrangement is
established. Did the paradise, the day,
the only one. The only one. The day
upon. The soul alone. A bell, permit

a sign. A curtain is a surface, and
the dead. Suppose a man! A bone. Suppose
a man. A single climate, all the day
away, a piece. The time. A drop! A day?


Texts analyzed by Gnoetry0.2:
Emily Dickinson, The Complete Dickinson
Gertrude Stein, Tender Buttons

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