a whirling man-boy...breaking out of his pod...shaded by notre dame...
paris is his husk...
"this plant would like to grow and yet be embryo; increase, and yet escape the doom of taking shape; be vaguely vast, and climb to the tip end of time with all of space to fill, like boundless Igdrasil that has the stars for fruit."*
[*3rd verse from "Seed Leaves" by Richard WILBUR, 1921-]
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