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Pablo you monster, you are at your prime sweet elevation. With words and rhythms that defy cavity. And for you Tony Bennett, all I can say is "fly me to the moon' and back again to mother ship.
I listen for wings and your slow elevation,
while the torrents of all who have perished assail me,
blind doves flying sodden:
you come flying.
You come flying, alone, in your solitude,
alone with the dead, alone in eternity,
shadowless, nameless, you come flying
without sweets, or a mouth, or a thicket of roses,
you come flying.