The Tennis Court Oath by John Ashbery

What had you been thinking about
the face studiously bloodied
heaven blotted region
I go on loving you like water but
there is a terrible breath in the way all of this   
You were not elected president, yet won the race   
All the way through fog and drizzle
When you read it was sincere the coasts
stammered with unintentional villages the   
horse strains fatigued I guess . . . the calls . . .
I worry

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