Sunday, September 18, 2016

9.12


light coming into fog next to triangular grey ridge

sparrow calling from shadowed branch across from it


holds understood thought, far in advance throughout

what we guess at, doesn't resonate with it, what is


precision a door from greatest precision to largest

opening attempt at using language utterly precisely


silver of sunlight slanting through fog above ridge

celadon green mouth of wave breaking across from it


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