1959
6.133
13.v.25
when you’re in a poem
have noticed how
when you’re in a poem
clocks stop
the weather’s further off
it’s when you’re in a picture too
when the music plays
wasn’t always
this is my all-the-time not
ink of the world
these fingers are in
safe just here to wander
all these habits which are it
all hands an ache to do
like a blow-me-down breeze
like a hat flown
night cleft
how tucked up we are
as with the dream
its threat of day
how even the heart grows still
how we listen for those colours
how they fill the head
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