Go, silly worm, drudge, trudge, and travel,
Despising pain,
So thou may’st gain
Some honour, or some golden gravel:
But Death the while (to fill his number)
With sudden call
Takes thee from all,
To prove thy days but dream and slumber.
Go, silly worm, drudge, trudge, and travel,
Despising pain,
So thou may’st gain
Some honour, or some golden gravel:
But Death the while (to fill his number)
With sudden call
Takes thee from all,
To prove thy days but dream and slumber.
“I clapped, then the radiance
contrasted white breath to the ivory slab, loaves in heat
sent in a pinch between windows between highways
we want a way, we want the link to prod a window
the odd of invent it and thought such that massed
before us the regular lyric prong as basis and asymmetric at any
moment…”
Clark Coolidge | This Time We Are Both