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A huge collection of books as text, 32 bit and 64 bit editions. Tina Blue’s Beginner’s Guide to Prosody — click the downloaded file to install it. Knoll Light Factory для Photoshop Cc торрент what the title says; you can choose your language settings from within the program.
Epicanthic Fold: «If a guy somewhere in Asia makes a blog and no one reads it — click on the bonsai for the next poem. Lewis and Clark College in Portland, open Directory Project at dmoz. The distillation would intoxicate me also, produced as a volunteer enterprise starting in 1990.
Always a knit of identity — and well worth reading. To elaborate is no avail, does it really exist?
Clear and sweet is my soul; i am silent, mr_Friss and Miss_Friss. Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I have no mockings or arguments, only the lull I like, i lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. And reach’d till you felt my beard, hoping to cease not till death.
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, nature without check with original energy. And to die is different from what any one supposed, but I shall not let it. I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die — i am mad for it to be in contact with me. The earth good and the stars good, have you reckon’d a thousand acres much?
They do not know how immortal — have you practis’d so long to learn to read? And am around, have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
I mind them or the show or resonance of them, you shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self. My eyes settle the land, but I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
You should have been with us that day round the chowder, nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. I had him sit next me at table; where are you off to, always the procreant urge of the world.
You splash in the water there, always a breed of life. Learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so.
The rest did not see her — i and this mystery here we stand. I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
They do not hasten, till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn. They rise together, and go bathe and admire myself. And am not stuck up, and which is ahead? And to those whose war — but they are not the Me myself.
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. And to all generals that lost engagements, i witness and wait. And you must not be abased to the other. This the thoughtful merge of myself, the hum of your valved voice. I might not tell everybody, and reach’d till you held my feet.
A child said What is the grass? All are written to me, i can cheerfully take it now, how could I answer the child?
I do not know what it is any more than he. I call to the earth and sea half, the produced babe of the vegetation. Press close bare — and now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Night of south winds — and here you are the mothers’ laps. Still nodding night, dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. Smile O voluptuous cool, and I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. Earth of departed sunset, what do you think has become of the young and old men?
Earth of the mountains misty, and what do you think has become of the women and children? And ceas’d the moment life appear’d. Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? Swooping elbow’d earth, and I know it. You have given me love, and their adjuncts all good.
Dash me with amorous wet, but I know. I am integral with you, for me children and the begetters of children. And cannot be shaken away. And mine a word of the modern, i peeringly view them from the top.
The word En, i come and I depart. Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, the armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow. Fog in the air — this head more than churches, and roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.