My house is a glance
the couched Brazilian
jaguar does
not remember,
I scanned his
face. There he is
merely flesh
and blood. Five days in
the brown waves of fog
toss up to the
mines, but he stands
waiting for rain.
Statistically Analyzed Texts:
T.S. Eliot, Poems
Eliza Poor Donner Houghton, The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic Fate
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