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The Naked Land

 A beast stands at my eye.
I cook my senses in a dark fire.
The old wombs rot and the new mother Approaches with the footsteps of a world.
Who are the people of this unscaled heaven? What beckons? Whose blood hallows this grim land? What slithers along the watershed of my human sleep? The other side of knowing .
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Caress of unwaking delight .
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O start A sufficient love! O gently silent forms Of the last spaces.

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