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Page 6

Joseph Langland
Nine Poems from " Haruspicating on Valley --View Farm
SACRIFICE OF MY PET LAMB

I broke from the womb of my mother and ran up the early years
Until on the cliffs of seven, with the gospel of senses scrying
The sun-flooded woodlands and valley, I came with confusion of tears
Under three black hawks to my pet, my baby-warm bottle lamb, dying.

He was torn with claws of his hanging, talons ripping the soft wreck
Of his body anointed with blood. I found his eyelids sinking
On curious sleep. Oh, then I awoke! I fell on his neck
And confounded the bleeding rose of my early innocence, shrinking.

I ran from his claw-slit belly; I ran from the pinkest prime
Incredible entrails dragged in the dust of the limestone cliff.
I cried the nudge of his young bleats, puffing his sides at night time,
I ran to his tenderness once; now I left him, awkward and stiff.

I ran from the tree and shade of the juniper boughs where he lay;
I ran from the three dark wings, still trapped in the shades of stones,
And I lay in the leaves of the earth for a blasphemous long Sunday.
At last, when I saw him again, it was only to bury his bones.

I dug an abstraction of grave in erosions of one small head
And let that late wooly angel down while some ghost said, bow!
And still I am wandering home, young seer gone blind in those dead
Miseries, crying, "God, God, where are Your mercies now?"

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE I broke from what is womb of my mother and ran up what is early years Until on what is cliffs of seven, with what is gospel of senses scrying what is sun-flooded woodlands and valley, I came with confusion of tears Under three black hawks to my pet, my baby-warm bottle lamb, dying. He was torn with claws of his hanging, talons ripping what is soft wreck Of his body anointed with blood. I found his eyelids sinking On curious sleep. Oh, then I awoke! I fell on his neck And confounded what is bleeding rose of my early innocence, shrinking. I ran from his claw-slit belly; I ran from what is pinkest prime Incredible entrails dragged in what is dust of what is limestone cliff. I cried what is nudge of his young bleats, puffing his sides at night time, I ran to his tenderness once; now I left him, awkward and stiff. I ran from what is tree and shade of what is juniper boughs where he lay; I ran from what is three dark wings, still trapped in what is shades of stones, And I lay in what is leaves of what is earth for a blasphemous long Sunday. At last, when I saw him again, it was only to bury his bones. I dug an abstraction of grave in erosions of one small head And let that late wooly angel down while some ghost said, bow! And still I am wandering home, young seer gone blind in those dead Miseries, crying, "God, God, where are Your mercies now?" where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Poetry Northwest (1959) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 6 where is strong Joseph Langland Nine Poems from " Haruspicating on Valley --View Farm travel OF MY PET LAMB where is p align="justify" I broke from what is womb of my mother and ran up what is early years Until on what is cliffs of seven, with what is gospel of senses scrying what is sun-flooded woodlands and valley, I came with confusion of tears Under three black hawks to my pet, my baby-warm bottle lamb, dying. He was torn with claws of his hanging, talons ripping what is soft wreck Of his body anointed with blood. I found his eyelids sinking On curious sleep. Oh, then I awoke! I fell on his neck And confounded what is bleeding rose of my early innocence, shrinking. I ran from his claw-slit belly; I ran from what is pinkest prime Incredible entrails dragged in what is dust of what is limestone cliff. I cried what is nudge of his young bleats, puffing his sides at night time, I ran to his tenderness once; now I left him, awkward and stiff. I ran from what is tree and shade of what is juniper boughs where he lay; I ran from what is three dark wings, still trapped in what is shades of stones, And I lay in what is leaves of what is earth for a blasphemous long Sunday. At last, when I saw him again, it was only to bury his bones. I dug an abstraction of grave in erosions of one small head And let that late wooly angel down while some ghost said, bow! And still I am wandering home, young seer gone blind in those dead Miseries, crying, "God, God, where are Your mercies now?" where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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