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and then

between numbness of existence
and caring

(for the names of trees)

arrives a moment, in which
so clear

that nothing but music
could have better set

the moment to


the discrepancy between male and female is what I choose to live for.


stillness of mind
if it exists

must be found in late summer lakes

almost like a line of poetry

hitting you as the cold water
shocks your skin

making you see how your existence

is but a ripple
on the fabric of life


reaching the end of a poem

might feel like the imprint
soon to be left by a beautiful woman
on your lap

(allowing to show a bit
of what clothes attempt to hide)

it might feel like the tension between
her walking away
and you holding tight

or pondering whether you just heard
a goshawk seeking a mate
or dinner

even, perhaps, the feeling that remains
when returning home
you find out that someone came and left

and you weren't there.

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