gri_2003_m_46_b04_f10_035
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.057
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.034
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- 68170560 - Berhel
- WINNER - 68232743 - Preacher357
- 68296077 - jesseytucker
- 68495289 - not-logged-in-8f56f2d8721f8e5f6906
- 68556040 - _secunda
- 68621335 - ssalinas_00
- 68697598 - Molly_Carr

68170560 - Berhel
Elongated lights and changing columnsUntil a map of England
Stops, torn, before the window:
Moss hoods a cloister,
Ropes of surf uncoil.
Sunlight punctuates the mist the way
A painted head rewards Winter's readers
Turning ivory pages of a manuscript.
Wunderkammer of sloping autumn:
Kinds of smoke from chimneys, trees
Like veins blown in the cloudy
Glass stems of the sky
Where there is an eye
Big with illness, pouched with hills.
Like astronomers dark lens
The mist lets us look in that wide eye.
Each fell leaf's a clue
If you can read the crisp page.
That cloud's an angel's gallstone.
The revealed tree scaffolds a comet's tail.
Green marble hill mounts a whale's teeth,
Making a path a jaw bone.
Sacrificial November,
Fire is blood-precious.
Rods of October
Land November's books
Old and slimy from immersion -
Water trickles from the soft tongues.
Apples are still sweet in some brown trees
And children guy departed summer.
The year is settling like a cart
In November's longing night
Which burning museums
Cannot abrogate.
October 1951
WINNER - 68232743 - Preacher357
Elongated lights and changing columnsUntil a map of England
Stops, torn. before the window:
Moss hoods a cloister,
Ropes of surf uncoil.
Sunlight punctuates the mist the way
A painted head rewards Winter's readers
Turning ivory pages of a manuscript.
Wunderkammer of sloping autumn:
Kinds of smoke from chimneys, trees
Like veins blown in the cloudy
Glass stems of the sky
Where there is an eye
Big with illness; pouched with hills.
Like astronomers dark lens
The mist lets us look in that wide eye.
Each fell leaf's a clue
If you can read the crisp page.
That cloud's an angel's gallstone.
The revealed tree scaffolds a comet's tail.
Green marble hill mounts a whale's teeth,
Making a path a jaw bone.
Sacrificial November,
Fire is blood-precious.
Rods of October
Land November's boots
Old and slimy from immersion -
Water trickles from the soft tongues.
Apples are still sweet in some brown trees
And children guy departed summer.
The year is settling like a cart
In November's longing night
Which burning museums
Cannot abrogate.
October 1951
68296077 - jesseytucker
Elongated lights and changing columnsUntil a map of England
Stops, torn, before the window:
Moss hoods a cloister,
Ropes of surf uncoil.
Sunlight punctuates the mist the way
A painted head rewards Winter's readers
Turning ivory pages of a manuscript.
Wunderkammer of sloping autumn:
Kinds of smoke from chimneys, trees
Like veins blown in the cloud
Glass stems of the sky
Where there is an eye
Big with illness, pouched with hills.
Like astronomers' dark lens
The mist lets us lock in that wide eye.
Each fell leaf's a clue
If you can read the crisp page.
That cloud's an angel's gallstone.
The revealed tree scaffolds a comet's tail.
Green marble hill mounts a whale's teeth,
Making a path a jaw bone.
Sacrificial November,
Fire is blood-precious.
Rods of October
Land November's boots
Old and slimy from immersion--
Water trickles from the soft tongues.
Apples are still sweet in some brown trees
And children guy departed summer.
The year is settlig like a cart
In November's longing night
Which burning museums
Cannot abrogate.
October 1951
68495289 - not-logged-in-8f56f2d8721f8e5f6906
Elongated lights and changing columnsUntil a map of England
Stops, torn, before the window:
Moss hoods a cloister,
Ropes of surf uncoil.
Sunlight punctuates the mist the way
A painted head rewards Winter's readers
Turning ivory pages of a manuscript.
Wunderkammer of sloping autumn:
Kinds of smoke from chimneys, trees
Like veins blown in the cloudy
Glass stems of the sky
Where there is an eye
Big with illness, pouched with hills.
Like astronomers' dark lens
The mist lets us look in the wide eye.
Each fell leaf's a clue
If you can read the crisp page.
That cloud's an angel's gallstone.
The revealed tree scaffolds a comet's tails,
Green marble hill mounts a whale's teeth,
Making a path a jaw bone.
Sacrificial November,
Fire is blood-precious.
Rods of October
Land November's boots
Old and slimy from immersion -
Water trickles from the soft tongues.
Apples are still sweet in some brown trees
And children guy departed summer.
The year is settling like a cart
In November's longing night
Which burning museums
Cannot abrogate.
68556040 - _secunda
Elongated lights and changing columnsUntil a map of England
Stops, torn, before the window:
Ropes of surf uncoil.
Sunlight punctuates the mist the way
A painted head rewards Winter's readers
Turning ivory pages of a manuscript.
Wunderkammer of sloping autumn:
Kinds of smoke from chimneys, trees
Like veins blown in the cloudy
Glass stems of the sky
Where there is an eye
Big with illness, pouched with hills.
Like astronomers' dark lens
The mist lets us look in that wide eye.
Each fell leaf's a clue
If you can read the crisp page.
That cloud's an angel's gallstone.
The revealed tree scaffolds a comet's tail.
Green marble hill mounts a whale's teeth,
Making a path a jaw bone.
Sacrificial November,
Fire is blood-precious.
Rods of October
Land November's boots
Old and slimy from immersion--
Water trickles from the soft tongues.
Apples are still sweet in some brown trees
And children guy departed summer.
The year is settling like a cart
In November's longing night
Which burning museums
Cannot abrogate.
October 1951
68621335 - ssalinas_00
Elongated lights and changing columnsUntil a map of England
Steps, torn, before the window:
Moss hoods a cloister,
Ropes of surf uncoil.
Sunlight punctuates the mist the way
A painted head rewards Winter's readers
Turning ivory pages of a manuscript.
Wunderkammer of sloping autumn:
Kinds of smoke from chimneys, trees
Like veins blown in the cloudy
Glass stems of the sky
Where there is an eye
Big with illness, pouched with hills.
Like astronomers' dark lens
The mist lets us look in the wide eye.
Each fell leaf's a clue
If you can read the crisp page.
That cloud's an angel's gallstone.
The revealed tree scaffolds a comet's tail.
Green marble hill mounts a whale's teeth,
Making a path a jaw bone.
Sacrificial November,
Fire is blood-precious.
Rods of October
Land November's books
Old and slimy from immersion -
Water trickles from the soft tongues.
Apples are still sweet in some brown trees
And children guy departed summer.
The year is settling like a cart
In November's longing night
Which burning museums
Cannot abrogate.
October 1951
68697598 - Molly_Carr
Elongated lights and changing columnsUntil a map of England
Stops, torn, before the window
Moss hoods a cloister,
Ropes of surf uncoil.
Sunlight punctuates the mist the way
A painted head rewards Winter's readers
Turning ivory pages of a manuscript.
Wunderkammer of sloping autumn:
Kinds of smoke from chimneys, trees
Like veins blown in the cloudy
Glass stems of the sky
Where there is an eye
Big with illness, pouched with hills.
Like astronomers' dark lens
The mist lets us look in that wide eye.
Each fell leaf's a clue
If you can read the crisp page.
That cloud's an angel's gallstone.
The revealed tree scaffolds a comet's tail,
Green marble hill mounts a whale's teeth,
Making a path a jaw bone.
Sacrificial November,
Fire is blood-precious
Rods of October
Land November's books
Old and slimy from immersion -
Water trickles from the soft tongues.
Apples are still sweet in some brown trees
And children guy departed summer.
The year is settling like a cart
In November's longing night
Which burning museums
Cannot abrogate.
October 1951