gri_2003_m_46_b04_f09_016
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.043
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.015
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- WINNER - 66757634 - tmeconverse
- 67074099 - Porsha
- 67379080 - Preacher357
- 67582606 - evanstonsherry
- 67603335 - altheist
- 67730074 - JanetCormack
WINNER - 66757634 - tmeconverse
The Poet as hermit, Explorer, & Sculptor - all in one Night(i)
Flesh has no tolerance of this,
The Stretching hours, elastic
That marble loads distend.
Night is a cork so fat
In a bottle's neck, no dawn's
Green spiral can remove it,
Although I see the wine.
Where are the flowers and ladders,
Balconies, waterfalls,
The floatings and the flights:
Behind the glass of time.
(ii)
My cave is not a hermit's
For Neon opens here and shuts,
Contradicting day and night,
Hairshirt of solitude.
At night journeys uncoil like snakes
It is a temptation to tread on :
Sleeping women are the blooms
of rooted night.
Day is a ship in a bottle,
Emblem of space and travel.
Blood raves in the anatomy
Under hairshirt of solitude.
(iii)
Welcome as eclipses to the explorers
Stretched beneath the sacrificial blade,
The sun flashes half across the sky:
Dark unifies the hills and roofs,
The garden and the balcony, the steps
Leading up and curving down.
Phoebus helped the clitoris of the wind -
Her coming is movement of the trees.
Colossal pleasures in the dark outside,
Sensual, Ossianic night.
Arrows of dream and oblivion land
On the target, however small, of bed.
67074099 - Porsha
The Poet as Hermit, Explorer, & Sculptor - all in one Night(i)
Flesh has no tolerance of this,
The stretching hours, elastic
That marble loads distend.
Night is a cork so fat
In a bottle's neck, no dawn's
Green spiral can remove it,
Although I see the wine.
Where are the flowers and ladders,
Balconies, waterfalls,
The floatings and the flights?
Behind the glass of time.
(ii)
My cave is not a hermit's
For neon opens here and shuts,
Contradicting day and night,
Hairshirt of solitude.
At night journeys uncoil like snakes
it is a temptation to tread on:
Sleeping women are the blooms
Of rooted night.
Day is a ship in a bottle,
Emblem of space and travel.
Blood raves in the anatomy
Under hairshirt of solitude.
(iii)
Welcome as eclipses to the explorers
Stretched beneath the sacrificial blade,
The sun flashes half across the sky:
Dark unifies the hills and roofs,
The garden and the balcony, the steps
Leading up and curving down.
Phoebus helped the clitoris of the wind -
Her coming is movement of the trees.
Colossal pleasures in the dark outside,
Sensual, Ossianic night.
Arrows of dream and oblivion land
On the target, however small, of bed.
67379080 - Preacher357
The Poet as Hermit, Explorer, & Sculptor - all in one Night(i)
Flesh has no tolerance of this,
The stretching hours, elastic
That marble loads distend.
Night is a cork so fat
In a bottle's neck, no dawn's
Green spiral can remove it,
Although I see the wine.
Where are the flowers and ladders,
Balconies, waterfalls,
The floatings and the flights?
Behind the glass of time.
(ii)
My cave is not a hermit's
For neon opens here and shuts,
Contradicting day and night,
Hairshirt of solitude.
At night journeys uncoil like snakes
It is a temptation to tread on:
Sleeping women are the blooms
Of rooted night.
Day is a ship in a bottle,
Emblem of space and travel.
Blood raves in the anatomy
Under hairshirt of solitude.
(iii)
Welcome as eclipses to the explorers
Stretched beneath the sacrificial blade,
The sun flashes half across the sky:
Dark unifies the hills and roofs,
The garden and the balcony, the steps
Leading up and curving down.
Phoebus helped the clitoris of the wind -
Her coming is movement of the trees.
Colossal pleasures in the dark outside,
Sensual, Ossianic night.
Arrows of dream and oblivion land
On the target, however small, of bed.
67582606 - evanstonsherry
The Poet as Hermit, Explorer & Sculptor - all in one Night.(i)
Flesh has no tolerance of this,
The stretching hours, elastic
That marble loads distend.
Night is a cork so fat
In a bottle's neck, no dawn's
Green spiral can remove it,
Although I see the wine.
Where are the flowers and ladders,
Balconies, waterfalls,
The floatings and the flights?
Behind the glass of time.
(ii)
My cave is not a hermit's
For neon opens here and shuts,
Contradicting day and night,
Hairshirt of solitude.
At night journeys uncoil like snakes
It is a temptation to tread on:
Sleeping women are the blooms
Of rooted night.
Day is a ship in a bottle,
Emblem of space and travel.
Blood raves in the anatomy
Under hairshirt of solitude.
(iii)
Welcome as eclipses to the explorers
Stretched beneath the sacrificial blade,
The sun flashes half across the sky:
Dark unifies the hills and roofs,
The garden and the balcony, the steps
Leading up and curving down.
Phoebus helped the clitoris of the wind -
Her coming is movement of the trees.
Colossal pleasures in the dark outside,
Sensual, Ossianic night.
Arrows of dream and oblivion land
On the target, however, small, of bed.
67603335 - altheist
The Poet as Hermit, Explorer, & Sculptor - All in one Night(i)
Flesh has no tolerance of this,
The stretching hours, elastic
That marble loads distend.
Night is a cork so fat
In a bottle's neck, no down's
Green spiral can remove it,
Although I see the wine.
Where are the flowers and ladder,
Balconies, waterfalls,
The floatings and the flights?
Behind the glass of time.
(ii)
My cave is not a hermit's
For neon opens here and shuts,
Contradicting day and night,
Hairshirt of solitude.
At night journeys uncoil like snakes
It is a temptation to tread on:
Sleeping women are the blooms
Of rooted night.
Day is a ship in a bottle,
Emblem of space and travel.
Blood raves in the anatomy
Under hairshirt of solitude.
(iii)
Welcome as eclipses to the explorers
Stretched beneath the sacrificial blade,
The sun flashes half across the sky:
Dark unifies the hills and roofs,
The garden and the balcony, the steps
Leading up and curving down.
Phoebus helped the clitoris of the wind -
Her coming is movement of the trees.
Colossal pleasure in the in the dark outside,
Sensual, Ossianic night.
Arrows of dream and oblivion land
On the target, however small, of bed.
67730074 - JanetCormack
The Poet as hermit, Explorer, & Sculptor - all in one Night(i)
Flesh has no tolerance of this,
The stretching hours, elastic
That marble loads distend.
Night is a cork so fat
In a bottle's neck, no dawn's
Green spiral can remove it,
Although I see the wine.
Where are the flowers and ladders,
Balconies, waterfalls,
The floatings and the flights?
Behind the glass of time,
(ii)
My cave is not a hermit's
For neon opens here and shuts,
Contradicting day and night.
Hairshirt of solitude.
At night's journeys uncoil like snakes
It is a temptation to tread on:
Sleeping women are the blooms
Of rooted night.
Day is a ship in a bottle,
Emblem of space and travel.
Blood raves in the anatomy
Under hairshirt of solitude.
(iii)
Welcome as eclipses to the explorers
Stretched beneath the sacrificial blade,
The sun flashes half across the sky:
Dark unifies the hills and roofs,
The garden and the balcony, the steps
Leading up and carving down.
Phoebus helped the clitoris of the wind -
Her coming is movement of the trees.
Colossal pleasures in the dark outside,
Sensual, Ossianic night.
Arrows of dream and oblivion land
On the target, however small, of bed.