. . .
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I sit on the ridge at dusk,
as the light leaves the valley by rising.
Trees, fingers clutch at it,
vaguely sifting the light and dying.
So bleed sarcophagi romantically--
re-bleed with dignifying re-constructive make-up.
. . .
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but in the headlights
of those all heading home,
all turned on as night came:
and flowing as a stream
of bonding, unbonding
molecules, their light came:
a highway arcs across my hill,
came out as dusk came down on it.
the day hid it in
soft
dead
leaves.
. . .
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with a longing upward and out,
to meet those rosy slopes,
and explode into them
before they erode:
the failing time flattens out
like the optimism of the old,
whose tribulation has become rosy.
my star could crest
parabolic
over the etched stream
and its etching.
. . .
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i will truck
faster than the world revolves
i will jet
spirals 'round the leaves as they fall
i'll turn faster than they stay in their seasons.
in revolving it changes--
and i don;t trust the axis
or the allies.
eh leve woul speh hey raal don aon on.
(the leaves will spiral down one by one.)
. . .
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There's a lake of black gold
There's an island, place
Of my great battle
There's an eagle and a snake
Graceful your evasions
That allow me pursuit
I love you
. . .
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They wear their leaves like Warholian wigs
Kangarwomb
If she had not paved
In memoriam their wounds
With gilt gold scabs
I dream of resting
Kangarwomb
. . .
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I am ex-centripetal
And weary from wandering
Pondering what I could mean
Staring into pods and puddles
When the mud muddles my vision clean
Made clear by the rippling
. . .
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Maybe the truth in searching
Is not having found
. . .
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I will be for you
A tour guide around the fields this afternoon
The field of battle lies along the riverside
Between two ridges and a cluster of low hills
Please remember:
Battlefields aren't picked out by choice or favor
It might be tough to see that, not so distantly
This field was theatre to a great and might way
. . .
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jolly jolly jolly ego,
you fit in.
you fit in, jully jolly jolly.
let the water bead
off your naked shoulders.
"clung to obstinate--
like an old love letter
boxed in her back pocket
lacking love, or living saliva:
dried blood--like a
wax seal, scabbing regal."
. . .
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Time birthed spilled blood
For to mine as oil yours
We will settle here
On the plain
This be our island
. . .
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May we all benefit from the legacy of the fallen
Petrified, pressed, minted for profit
Ad this will be our final stop
I want to guide you toward the gift shop
Thank you all for being so pleasant
. . .
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chorus:
---------------
i love you?
----------------
---------------
i love you
---------------
dave longstreth:
who is the surgeon?
who is colonist?
in time you will know
the last wilderness
female chorus:
---------
who is the surgeon?
who is colonist?
in time you will know
the last wilderness
dave:
so may you restful be
in time, in time
do not colonize
the insides, the insides
chorus:
who is the surgeon?
who is colonist?
in time you will know
the last wilderness
who is the surgeon?
who is colonist?
in time you will know
the last wilderness
. . .
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