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and then our exile

Wednesday, April 19, 2006 at 9:54 a.m.

(the earth is licked by tongues of fire
the sea is whipped by relentless winds
ululating hounds bay in north autumn air)

give me silence, give me water, hope

a retrospective and quiet solace in the way the clouds and rains and seas are constant, the sky stays in place, tree-trunks remain firm, the blades of grass transmute into ash, the nodding of birch branches. because.
of knowledge.

though maybe only in contrast do these give meaning
(i've looked at clouds from both sides now)

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