living lights 2 pub dom rev

who can know the ways of love
its abrupt subjects and improbable objects
its little curtained rooms and high turrets
the river it swims in and swamps it occupies
the fur it wears for skin on high occasions
the things its connoisseurs cannot reconnoiter
the things its detectives do not suspect
the things in it that run the wild in wilderness
its espaliered sentiments, its battlements
its jars and spoons, its uncouth accoutrements
its snowbanks and dark windows
the lapse of its letters and tardy latitudes
the presto of its prestidigitation
its ducts and dungeons and dubious documents
its glades and gullies and worn gilding
its couloirs and parlors and erratic orbits
how there’s no taking it back
how there’s just no going back ever


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