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THE EMPTY LOOM i. Hiking through the Lake District, you watched sheep Graze among the evening hills like a dusky, curdShaped cumulus. Looms weave such clouds as these. ii. In his Il Libro dell’ Arte, Cennini wrote that women Took up spinning after squandered Paradise, But surely he was also thinking of the roundness To their rhythms in the soft Italian nights, the moon, Pale bobbin, coming on . . . iii. I’m sure he would have loved the simple buoyancy Of these heddles, the warping board, and the way The wood looks like it could burn even under water. Have loved the sight of you in evening light, seated By the window, inching your patient fabric past the edge Of the fell where the patterns gathered into cloth. 43 ...

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