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A Time for Silhouettes The world is mine now And yet I am quiet, Groping, then guided anxiously Like a plant to light Beyond a dark immediate interlude. The memory of essence past Dulls, coagulates, Engulfs an urgent void - The senses steeled, catapult, rebound, Intensely echo, Writhe, melt, absorb A creamy deja-vu: And as the Zen poem questions "How does one place a noise?" The world is mine now And quiet I'll remain. |
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