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oices to voices, lip to lipi swear (to noone everyone) constitutesundying; or whatever this and that petal confutes. . .to exist being a peculiar form of sleep what’s beyond logic happens beneath will;nor can these moments be translated: i saythat even after Aprilby God there is no excuse for May --bring forth your flowers and machinery:sculpture and proseflowers guess and missmachinery is the more accurate, yesit delivers the goods, Heaven knows (yet are we mindful, though not as yet awake,of ourselves which shout and cling, beingfor a little while and which easily breakin spite of the best overseeing) i mean that the blond absence of any programexcept last and always and first to livemakes unimportant what i and you believe;not for philosophy does this rose give a damn. . . bring on your fireworks, which are a mixedsplender of piston and of pistil; very wellprovided an instant may be fixedso that it will not rub, like any other pastel. (While you and i have lips and voices whichare for kissing and to sing withwho cares if some oneeyed son of a bitchinvents an instrument to measure Spring with? each dream nascitur,is not made. . .)why then to Hell with that :the other; this,since the thing perhaps isto eat flowers and not to be afraid.
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