an unspeaking door

i. I have no truck with the unspeaking door      no truck with pain

that loves the king's rattle      no truck with eyes that pluck nether

shades      no truck with luminescence or gore or the passing field

where seed is ditched where the pitch of a tired crow will shriek -

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i+1. Each seat of wear          turns the bread of summer chrome          it is

Level it is bound          to tear    the sound of ease is drowned          it is