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A Special Edition of The East Village
Lying Close against the Ground Quasars, quasistellar objects, are celestial art pieces beyond the Milky Way. To you and me, the most remote look like snaps of hot, messianic radiation, because our brains get scattered with hydrogen (two atoms per cubic meter) which absorbs blue light ok, but when the blue soaks there in the more celibate white, they're just infrareds. Our handshakes wish they could go. Placid as I am, I'll put on all the weights. Yeah, nao, on our billion-light year journey, my love, needing a technique like flames, and using electromagneticism (the same as digital cameras, charge-coupled devices instead of film), we make the panorama of stars pass as the earth rotates. The resulting 'images' are streams of happiness that flow to us, others' of galaxies, nebulae and far stars from each night's scan. And objects with strong infrared we earmark: these may be isolated signals from still others, also with devices, who follow. Pssst, he stood up (wearing lifts) and withdrew, juggling for something like a matchbook in the rain. That's Donne. Should we vie, though holding just his hoots on a pine globe? Or was it Poe showering with him That temperature all over us like sea ponies in moot radar splashing sea moss across whose conformity to soar? And talking of discontinuous, we meet in a song chalked off in diagrams propelled by fear of crowds Several atomizers of black mist and again the news of oil supplies shoes, shoes in the marketplace.
Volume Eleven Index