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the visc’ral bliss
I hear your earth beneath us quake
For mortals such as we—
To claim the land was our mistake,
Your voice does disagree.

I taste your water year on year
In glass, in rain, on misted pier—
In every way, shape, form, degree—
Shall all but disappear.

I see your fire bow, leap and bound
With insolidity—
This ambiance...