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57 The Vineyard to Fanny White-gold light like wine or wistfulness Walking up and down wanting the day to disappear into god, the interloper, my body Sitting in front of someone else’s house the in-between house porch littered with insects, pollen, dust The white paint of the post against the sky The metal of the copper-green flagpole disappearing Every time I look the light has changed First yellow, then white, first bright, then mute It’s copied, my bravery—I’ve no right to it How dare I praise the world, barking like an ugly dog crazy for home ...

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