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V
Blacks wind from the north
enter black hearts. Barred from
seclusion in lilys they strike
to destroy—
Beastly humanity
where the wind breaks it—
strident voices, heat
quickened, built of waves
Drunk with goats or pavements
Hate his of the night and the day
of flowers and rocks. Nothing
is gained by saying the night breeds
murder—It is the classical mistake
The day
All that enters in another person
all grass, all blackbirds flying
all azalia trees in flower
salt winds—
