1476
5.15
15.i.24
a thousand pictures
in a word
for wise surprise
through so many lips
heart pressed
mist flimsy
so you’ll see half through
an under over ache
trumpet bright
here’s my meadow
gnarl and gambol
take walls and in a chink
come whisper
see back
glass darkly
as through the grave
a whistle up dither
there was none in the beginning
and once there were
then never just one
centipede trail
clear as a bell
wrung of
and here the occasion rises
by breast so called
inward thump
sweat out and skate
brave bears among
by inkling alone, go
scream and fish glimmer
tangle trail treetops too
take sky from an open hand
here then goes the eye with the bird
just as per old fascination
and memory
the colour arc
any as sacred as each
little dance to
take your breath
this isn’t over yet
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