I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand.
For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their carbines and keep watch, It is I let out in the morning and barr'd at night.
Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be gambling spilleautomater xbox 360 you!
And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse.In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture-but the host and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?It cannot fall the young man who died and was buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew back and was never seen again, Nor the old.Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out.The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors.You my rich blood!Night of south winds-night of the large few stars!Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.And what do you think has become of the women and children?This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe.Shoulder your duds dear son, and I will mine, and let us hasten forth, Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as.So they show their relations to me and I accept them, They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their possession.I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and.Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk-toss on the black stems that decay in the muck, Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.30 All truths wait in all things, They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it, They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon, The insignificant is as big to me as any, (What is less or more than a touch?) Logic and.Let it all out!
Magnifying and applying come I, Outbidding at the start the old cautious hucksters, Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah, Lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson, Buying drafts of Osiris, Isis, Belus, Brahma, Buddha, In my portfolio placing Manito loose, Allah.