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Sea of stretch'd ground-swells, Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths, Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell'd yet always-ready graves, Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea, I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all.
I know perfectly well firefox sync server synology my own egotism, Know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less, And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself.My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision.From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long hair, Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.Why should I pray?Press close bare-bosom'd night-press close magnetic nourishing night!Prodigal, you have given me love-therefore I to you give love!I help myself to material and immaterial, No guard can shut me off, no law prevent.If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you!Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!
The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen.
Down-hearted doubters dull and excluded, Frivolous, sullen, moping, angry, affected, dishearten'd, atheistical, I know every one of you, I know the sea of torment, doubt, despair and unbelief.And as to you Life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, (No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.) I hear you whispering there O stars of heaven, O suns-O grass of graves-O perpetual transfers and promotions, If you.Writing and talk do not prove me, I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face, With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic.Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd to him and walk by his side, (I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips.) Not a youngster is taken for larceny but.The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power, but in his own right, Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak, Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp.