luca zani

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I felt a funeral in my brain,    And mourners, to and fro, Kept treading, treading, till it seemed    That sense was breaking through. And when they all were seated,    A service like a drum Kept beating, beating, till I thought    My mind was going numb. And then I heard them lift a box,    And creak across my soul With those same boots of lead, again,    Then space began to toll As all the heavens were a bell,    And Being but an ear, And I and silence some strange race,    Wrecked, solitary, here.
My Life Had Stood a Loaded Gun
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