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Unformatted text preview: Thy Nazarene and tender eyes. (Let sphinxes from the ripe Borage of death have cleared my tongue Once and again; vermin and rod No longer bind. Some sentient cloud Of tears flocks through the tendoned loam: Betrayed stones slowly speak.) Names peeling from Thine eyes And their undimming lattices of flame, Spell out in palm and pain Compulsion of the year, O Nazarene. Lean long from sable, slender boughs, Unstanched and luminous. And as the nights Strike from Thee perfect spheres, Lift up in lilac-emerald breath the grail Of earth again— Thy face From charred and riven stakes, O Dionysus, Thy Unmangled target smile....
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- Spring '10
- Thou, Mills Corporation, Black metal, Hart Crane Whitely