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Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire him, They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them, stay with them.
You seem to look for something at my hands, Say, old top-knot, what do you want?51 The past and present wilt-I have fill'd them, emptied them.You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.You my rich blood!Not a moment's cease, The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine.Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?30 All truths wait in all things, They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it, They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon, The insignificant is as ddd pool paprikari keygen big to me as any, (What is less or more than a touch?) Logic and.I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from.The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires, I turn the bridgroom out of bed and stay with the bride myself, I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips.
O manhood, balanced, florid and full.
I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and.Only three guns are in use, One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear his decks.O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days!23 Endless unfolding of words of ages!Earth of departed sunset-earth of the mountains misty-topt!My face rubs to the hunter's face when he lies down alone in his blanket, The driver thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon, The young mother and old mother comprehend me, The girl and the wife rest the needle.Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it?What have you to confide to me?