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Posts Tagged ‘circling’

So busy watching my feet
move over the small stones,
dried leaves, paths of ants,
it is a long time before
I see the birds.

*

What is it I am circling?
What is this longing
to name it?

*

The slats of shadow
and light only look
like prisons.
We slide through the bars
like song.

*

The bell does not ring
when we call it bell. It rings
with the playing of it.

*

And what is playing me,
this too-solid bell of a
flesh called woman,
Hollow me, I am
diligently practicing
my one note
in the symphony.

*

All these obstacles,
and still
the unspiraling line.

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