3.28.2010

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Poetry
is behind
still inward
Everything
seen & unseen,--
What is seen,
Hides organ-inners,
behind unpointed
revelances
of these facts.
There is There.
There the air
breathes thinly.
Night comes.
Ear to wonder.
Open it.
Opened up
By it. Pretending
to be voiceless.