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Dawn in the Fall of My Thirtieth Year
And through Tudor windows opens antique timbre— old-forge steel, tempered and flank-fitted for war horses, makes seize-music on meat-pistons that mean plunder: As if. ………For I know a construction truck’s shuddering out its raised dumper, and the sun is a vinegar sponge. And You slowly thumb up Your pure pressure. Let me will to possess…