| «…to gather in us the desire for motion towards…
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| Motion to make that movement vertical… rewrite your
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| Book while hovering… assemble and advance on the
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| Sky… there is no more room for forward, for back…
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| Focus in us flight, and spring. |
| Jump… take up space
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| It is in the air… take what is yours. |
| Take on space… "
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| The month of armies. |
| Month of stomping men
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| Uniform winter tries to shed while fighting back
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| Nostalgia’s frozen tears. |
| The melted path summer runs
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| Along, naked but for her tanned hide. |
| Yes, spring is a
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| Bully. |
| All the earth in coitus for lonely bees to watch
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| And as the world grows green, broken birds grow envy
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| True, man, spring gets all the love. |
| Verb in season
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| Form. |
| This is it’s roaring mouth leaving bite marks
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| On the years front quaters; |
| aide memoire to the
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| Thoughtless ranks who bundle up their fear of age
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| With love lost tattered scarves
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| But it is also quite mindful of two masters, for all it’s
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| Pomp and span: though keeping to the wings
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| And later giving them up (only one needs the hand)
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| It serves the lion and leaves the lamb. |
| March |