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When -Pierre ReverdyA prisoner in this space perpetually narrow With my left-over hands left on my eyelids With none ofthe words that reason can bring itself To invent I play the hell-game That dances on the horiwn. Space in darkness makes it better, And it may be there are people passing through meThere may even be a song ofsome kind The cloud fills itselffull ofhovering holes The needle loses itself In clothes-covered sharpness The thunder stops shortA few more minutes It's too late I'll start to shake: too late ever to act to act at all: This is the thing as it will be. All around, chains are gritting on each other Like blackboard chalk every tree In the world is going to fall. The window opens to summer. A Saying ofFarewell -homage, Nordahl GriegYou 've dressed yourselfso white for it! And you poise As on the edge ofan undersea cliff, for departure. We two are the only ones who know that this lost instant Is not lost, but is the end Oflife. "It's as though we were dying, this calm twilight." Head-Deep in Strange Sounds: Free-Flight Improvisations from the unEnglish / 410 ...

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