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Foreword | |
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because the final | |
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songs without words | |
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the rice care | |
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The park geese | |
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A sudden smoothness like a glass | |
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there are no stars in | |
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With the dead rest | |
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the cobra standing | |
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we can run out of our side | |
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blood: someone says it's not | |
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The fast storm sky wiped so suddenly | |
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the walls become whole | |
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the builders baled chambers | |
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I pull a curtain of the great cats | |
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The Local/Elevations | |
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No | |
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a carnival of bald deer | |
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the rule of the spirits guesses | |
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the fireworks mariner | |
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you have to run forward | |
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Their body holding | |
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I walk nights | |
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sometime I'm going to have to | |
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As a boy there were no black boy | |
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and now here I was in the amazon | |
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it is a flash flood | |
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Huge Spaces Apart We Still Look Each Other Face to Face (Santa Barbara) | |
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when I saw it I thought I was hundreds | |
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the variations on god | |
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At Any of the Bethabaras: Metempsychosis | |
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Red Shift | |
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influence it | |
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We had seen a first | |
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Information | |
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one of the things we were | |
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something stretched out on balance | |
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Seizure by Simple Error | |
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It is without example | |
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The notebooks are where the foot | |
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in this song the people are singing | |
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a T-square regular | |
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I Have Opened Six of Ti's Nine Knots | |
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the puzzle in bundles | |
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there is a cleft brain talking diamond | |
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Simbi Petro Damballah La Flambeau | |
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The Seven Deltas of Shango's Wives | |
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where day sun's long pile | |
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Interval | |
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12.b.obs. OED | |
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Isolating the Nurturent Reflex to Sound | |
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knowing the music | |
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labyrinth is a real route | |
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Photograph: The House of the Poet | |
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... Apart from What Each Other Is ... | |
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the fairy tales were over and had grown | |
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They say when | |
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Ours is a foolish fire | |
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Whose sleeves | |
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That everything can go | |
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Aerialist Narrative | |
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Taking the Print | |
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Heading: The Landing | |
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Waterfowl Landing: It Lifts to Close | |
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Properties | |
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Cape Journal: At Sand Pile | |
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African Ascendancy | |
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Research at the Interstice | |
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The Motorcycle Crossing | |
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The Comb | |
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Given Way | |
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mblemati.txt | |
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stepping through I | |
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Heron Riddle Flashback | |
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The skipping stone stays out of the water | |
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Cinquain de Lune | |
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What the Return of the Lines Meant | |
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Chorus at Ohiopyle | |
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Gnosis | |
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The birds put inside | |
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Elegy for a White Cock | |
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Onze | |
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A widow suckling | |
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bomb | |
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On the Line | |
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There were these | |
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And O | |
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Handed the Rain | |
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the flock of black cormorants flying | |
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Ask for "How High the Moon" | |
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After the De-Tonations on the Moon by NASA | |
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Ha | |
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In Light of Dream | |