CHAPTER 2 “Thank you, Respected Sister, may I please have another swat? Buderus Ecomatic 4000 Schaltplan Pdf Writer. ” I said, gasping for breath and waiting for the sting of the next swat coming down on me.

To link to this poem, put the URL below into your page: Song of Myself by Walt Whitman Walt Whitman: Song of Myself The DayPoems Poetry Collection, editor Click to submit poems to DayPoems, comment on DayPoems or a poem within, comment on other poetry sites, update links, or simply get in touch.. Poetry Whirl Indexes Poetry Places Nodes powered by Open Directory Project at dmoz.org DayPoems Favorites, a huge collection of books as text, produced as a volunteer enterprise starting in 1990. This is the source of the first poetry placed on DayPoems., exactly what the title says, and well worth reading.: 'If a guy somewhere in Asia makes a blog and no one reads it, does it really exist?'

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, miniature, minimalist-inspired sculptures created from industrial cereamics, an art project at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon., More projects from Portland, Furby, Eliza, Mr_Friss and Miss_Friss., a Portland, Oregon, exhibit, Aug. 5, 2004, at Disjecta. D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s Won't you help support DayPoems? Song of Myself By 1819-1892 1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy. 2 Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes, I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

In the early-morning hours of August 5th, two thousand feet belowground, the night shift was finishing its work. Men covered in soot and drenched in sweat gathered in one of the caverns, waiting for a truck that would take them on the forty-minute drive to the surface. During their shift, they had noted a wailing rumble in the distance—the sound of many tons of rock falling in forgotten caverns deep inside the mountain. The noise and the vibrations caused by these avalanches were transmitted through the mountain much as lightning strikes travel through the air and the ground.

“The mine is weeping a lot,” the men said to one another. A few mentioned the rumblings to the men on the next shift, but there was no sense of alarm.

The thunder always receded and the mountain eventually returned to its steady, quiet state. Lobos said afterward that the collapse hit the miners as a roar of sound, as if a skyscraper were crashing down behind them. The vast, haphazard architecture of the mine, improvised over the course of a century, had given way. A single block of granite-like stone called diorite, as tall as a forty-five-story building, had broken loose and was falling through the layers of the mine, knocking out sections of the Ramp and creating a chain reaction as the mountain collapsed. Stone and ore were pulled downward to crash against other rocks, causing the surviving sections of the mine to shake violently. In the workshop at Level 150, Bustos, who was forty and had survived an earthquake and a tsunami five months earlier in his home town of Talcahuano, scurried under the chassis of a Toro 400 loader as stones the size of oranges fell around him.