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think of the word glorious and remember the moment it swelled in your lungs, bubbled up to your mouth, steeping there waiting to be let: the sun, yet unrisen, defining each jag in the ridges: smeary clouds consuming all promise of light like warmth, pink to orange: brilliant curve of your mother around whom you shall blindingly spin.
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is the woman, in search of her husband, who steps from the elevator into the morgue, wrong floor, the chill and the shakable breach of ignorance A few days later, under motion from this world—
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And Sue, benevolent soul, the nurse whom you did not trust, do not care for still because in one of your delusions, Sue, from across the distance my shaking hands down, my hands between of the counter beneath before I burned myself, understand, of the sun on my seared hand—she, from a spell of precipitate mourning and you, Don’t go there yet; it is not time
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Incline your ear and hear some thousand cliffs
And myriad ravines. Our soul among Lions and even among the beasts our mouths, Bloodguilty, on fire. We flail in the wind- swept grasses and shape the joyful sound of Pomegranate, penstemon, monk’s hood. The Deep of your garment doth swallow me up. Slowly we grow a green olive tree, a dwell- So art thou waterflood.
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to admit the undertow * tribal prayer * yellow |