from some notebook a year or so ago.
__________________________
You do not think these things. You
Unthink. Hands' fingers follow
Gravity; hands on knees draw the
Line of the eye you cannot
Look away from.
You begin to envy -
"who then can love" - Rilke.
But hypocrisies - Catullus
Lied and you caught the
Disc of it years too late -
Only the alone can truly know
The tremble of field before plow -
At the edge you are, the field's
Edge, the flower-falling edge.
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