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RV 184 (BIG SUR184) ::::years aint nothing—

O the cities here below!
 * The men with a thousand
 * arms! the stanchions of
 * their upward gaze! the
 * coral of their poetry! the
 * sea dragons tenderized, meat
 * for fleshy fish—
 * Navark, navark, the fishes
 * of the Sea speak Breton—
 * wash as soft as people’s
 * dreams—We got peoples
 * in & out the shore, they call
 * it shore, sea call it
 * pish rip plosh—The
 * 5 billion years since
 * earth we saw substantial
 * chan—Chinese are
 * the waves—the woods
 * are dreaming

No human words bespeak
 * he token sorrow older
 * than old this wave
 * becrashing smarts the
 * sand with plosh
 * of twirléd sandy

thought—Ah change
 * the world? Ah set
 * the fee? Are rope the
 * angels in all the sea?
 * Ah ropey otter
 * barnacle’d be—
 * Ah cave, Ah crosh!
 * A feathery sea


 * Too much short—Where
 * Miss Nop tonight?

Wroten Kerarc’h