A Route of EvanescenceWith a revolving Wheel –A Resonance of Emerald –A Rush of Cochineal –And every Blossom on the BushAdjusts its tumbled Head –The mail from Tunis, probably,An easy Morning’s Ride –
by Emily Dickinson
And thus the people every year in the valley of humid July did sacrifice themselves to the long green phallic god and eat and eat and eat. T...
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