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Dream Song 120: Foes I sniff when I have less to shout

 Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout
or murmur.
Pals alone enormous sounds downward & up bring real.
Loss, deaths, terror.
Over & out, beloved: thanks for cabbage on my wounds: I'll feed you how I feel:— of avocado moist with lemon, yea formaldehyde & rotting sardines O in our appointed time I would I could a touch more fully say my consentless mind.
The senses are below, which in this air sublime do I repudiate.
But foes I sniff! My nose in all directions! I be so brave I creep into an Arctic cave for the rectal temperature of the biggest bear, hibernating—in my left hand sugar.
I totter to the lip of the cliff.

by John Berryman
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