gri_2003_m_46_b05_f25_009

Max. dissimilarity: 0.108
Mean dissimilarity: 0.059
Image votes: 0.0

Transcribers

68995872 - jesseytucker
69841144 - RaeHughes
70730975 - gailkoelker
WINNER - 70841528 - darryluk
70888285 - Preacher357
70936752 - Zooniverse2017

68995872 - jesseytucker

two
Pottery of memory, fired by fear,
Be modelled by sunlight and local color:
The centaur and the wizard shall be softened
To the iconology of peace.
The repose of rooms is evident
By the symmetry of their collapse:
The mirror is a placid ranch and now
The anamorphic vision swivels down.
Half of the salad of the year is segments
Of the contours of repose, of orange
Cool as columns supporting a blue pediment
Inscribed with loving naturalistic figures.
Here and on such steps as light exposes
Morning is the profile of jardineres
Filled with the spiral nipples of afternoon
And the curled flags of the sensual night.
We can embrace like figures in a double plot
Across the loose-ends and the differences,
On shelves cleared of books for the purpose,
Or draped in a spider's web of stockings.
Straw hats of summer spin through the window
And rest on table, chairs, and corners of the bed.
The large glowing eye of the lamp
IN what moths mistake for stained glass lights.
When I make sometimes the bed delays
With the roses of the startled lovers,
The perfume of the thoughtful, and the fish
Leaping wild, uncovered, of the dream.
Only in the message of pearls alive
On girls who nourish pearls by their flesh
Can I learn the peaceful heiroglyphs
That personages carve on trees of sleep.
Not masks but instruments the furniture,
My map, my thebes, my sightly quarter,
I am not the last alive, the only
Poet with woodwoses in the wings.
Smooth as bubbles wandering in a drink
The weather navigates the calendar:

69841144 - RaeHughes

two.

Pottery of memory, fired by fear,
Be modelled by sunlight and local color:
The centaur and the wizard shall be softened
To the iconology of peace.

The repose of rooms is evident
By the symmetry of their collapse:
The mirror is a placid ranch and now
The anamorphic vision swivels down.

Half the salad of the year is segments
Of the contours or repose, of orange
Cool as columns supporting a blue pediment
Inscribed with loving naturalistic figures.

Here and on such steps as light exposes
Morning is the profile of jardineres
Filled with the spiral nipples of afternoon
And the curled flags of the sensual night.

We can embrace like figures in a double plot
Across the loose-ends and the differences.
On shelves cleared of books for the purpose.
Or draped in a spider's web of stockings.

Straw hats of summer spin through the window
And rest on table, chairs and corners of the bed.
The large glowing eye of the lamps
Is what moths mistake for stained glass lights.

When I wake sometimes the bed delays
With the roses of the startled lovers,
The perfume of the thoughtful, and the fish
Leaping wold, uncovered, of the dreams.

Only in the message of the pearls alive
On girls who nourish pearls by their flesh
Can I lean the peaceful hieroiglyphs
That personages carve on trees of sleep.

Not masks but instruments the furniture,
My map, my thebes, my sightly quarter.
I am not the last alive, the only
Poet with woodwoses in the wings.

Smooth as bubbles wandering in a drink
The weather navigates the calendar:
Vanishing trick of the unchivalric hunter,
Restore the plates, the springs, the plenitude

70730975 - gailkoelker

two
Pottery of memory, fired by fear,
Be modelled by sunlight and local color:
The centaur and the wizard shall be softened
To the iconology of peace.
The repose of rooms is evident
By the symmetry of their collapse:
The mirror is a placid ranch and now
The anamorphic vision swivels down.
Half of the salad of the year is segments
Of the contours of repose, of orange
Cool as columns supporting a blue pediment
Inscribed with loving naturalistic figures.
Here and on such steps as light exposes
Morning is the profile of jardineres
Filled with the spiral nipples of afternoon
And the curled flags of the sensual night.
We can embrace like figures in a double plot
Across the loose-end's and the differences,
On shelves cleared of books for the purpose,
Or draped in a spider's web of stockings.
Straw hats of summer spin through the window
And rest on table, chairs, and corners of the bed.
The large glowing eye of the lamp
Is what moths mistake for stained glass lights.
When I wake sometimes the bed delays
With the roses of the startled lovers,
The perfume of the thoughtful, and the fish
Leaping wild, uncovered, of the dream.
Only in the message of pearls alive
On girls who nourish pearls by their flesh
Can I learn the peaceful hieroglyphs
That personages carve on trees of sleep.
Not masks but instruments the furniture,
My map, my thebes, my slightly quarter,
I am not the last alive, the only
Poet with woodwoses in the wings.
Smooth as bubbles wandering in a drink
The weather navigates the calendar:
Vanishing trick of the unchivalric hunter,
Restore the plates, the springs, the plentitude.

WINNER - 70841528 - darryluk

two

Pottery of memory, fired by fear,
Be modelled by sunlight and local colour:
The centaur and the wizard shall be softened
To the iconology of peace.

The repose of rooms is evident
By the symmetry of their collapse:
The mirror is a placid ranch and now
The anamorphic vision swivels down.

Half of the salad of the year is segments
Of the contours of repose, of orange
Cool as columns supporting a blue pediment
Inscribed with loving naturalistic figures.

Here and on such steps as light exposes
Morning is the profile of jardineres
Filled with the spiral nipples of afternoon
And the curled flags of the sensual night.

We can embrace like figures in a double plot
Across the loose-ends and the differences,
On shelves cleared of books for the purpose,
Or draped in a spider's web of stockings.

Straw hats of summer spin through the window
And rest on table, chairs, and corners of the bed.
The large glowing eye of the lamp
Is what moths mistake for stained glass lights.

When I wake sometimes the bed delays
With the roses of the startled lovers.
The perfume of the thoughtful, and the fish
Leaping wild, uncovered, of the dream.

Only in the message of pearls alive
On girls who nourish pearls by their flesh
Can I learn the peaceful hieroglyphs
That personages carve on trees of sleep.

Not masks but instruments the furniture,
My map, my thebes, my sightly quarter,
I am not the last alive, the only
Poet with woodwoses in the wings.

Smooth as bubbles wandering in a drink
The weather navigates the calendar:
Vanishing trick of the unchivalric hunter,
Restore the plates, the springs, the plenitude.

70888285 - Preacher357

two

Pottery of memory, fired by fear,
Be modelleed by nunklight and local color:
The centaur and the wizard shall be softened
To the iconoloby of peace.

The repose of rooms is evident
By the symmetry of their collapse:
The mirror is a placid ranch and now
The anamorphic vision swivels down.

Half of the salad of the year is segments
Of the contours of repose, of orange
Cool as columns supporting a blue pediment
Inscribed with loving naturalistic figures.

Here and on such steps as light exposes
Morning is the profile of jardineres
Filled with the spiral nipples of afternoon
And the curled flags of the sensual night.

We can embrace like figures in a double plot
Across the loose-ends and the differences,
On shelves cleared of books for the purpose,
Or draped in a spider's web of stockings.

Straw hats of summer spin through the window
And rest on table, chairs, and corners of the bed.
The large glowing eye of the lamp
Is what moths mistake for stained glass lights.

When I wake sometimes the bed delays
With the roses of the startled lovers,
The perfume of the thoughtful, and the fish
Leaping wild, uncovered, of the dream.

Only in the message of pearls alive
On girls who nourish pearls by their flesh
Can I learn the peaceful hieroglyphs
That personages carve on trees of sleep.

Not masks but instruments the furniture,
My map, my thebes, my sightly quarter,
I am not the last alive, the only
Poet with woodwoses in the wings.

Smooth as bubbles wandering in a drink
The weather navigates the calendar:
Vanishing trick of the unchivalric hunter,
Restore the plates, the springs, the plenitude.

70936752 - Zooniverse2017

two

Pottery of memory, fired by fear,
Be modelled by sunlight and local color:
The centaur and the wizard shall be softened
To the iconology of peace.

The response of rooms is evident
By the symmetry of their collapse:
The mirror is a placid ranch and now
The anamorphic vision swivels down.

Half of the salad of the year is segments
Of the contours of repose, of orange
Cool as columns supporting a blue pediment
Inscribed with leaving naturalistic figures.

Here and on such steps as light exposes
Morning is the profile of jardinieres
Filled with the spiral nipples of afternoon
And the curled flags of the sensual night.

We can embrace like figures in a double plot
Across the loose-ends and the differences,
On shelves cleared of books for the purpose,
Of draped in a spider's web of stockings.

Straw hats of summer spin through the window
And rest on table, chairs, and corners of the bed.
The large glowing eyes of the lamp
Is what moths mistake for stained glass lights.

When I wake sometimes the bed delays
with the roses of the startled lovers,
The perfume of the thoughtful, and the fish
Leaping wild, uncovered, of the dream.

Only in the message of pearls alive
On girls who nourish pearls by their flesh
Can I learn the peaceful hieroglyphs
That personages carve on trees of sleep.

Not masks but instruments the furniture,
My map, my thebes, my sightly quarter.
I am not the last alive, the only
Poet with woodwoses in the wings.

Smooth as bubbles wandering in a drink
The weather navigates the calendar:
Vanishing trick of the unchivalric hunter,
Restore the plates, the springs, the plenitude.

Previous document

Next document