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28 . . . We see the farther away the more distant as the deeper into time: backwards up to here how far come. but time’s direction farther equal this far goes through town its whistle is this minute crossing and its wall of boxcar all our view. That lonesome whistle silence of stars through here sees this— how you pull this minute of your sleeve off inside out then reach in the past pull the future out again, in these two distances, your same unthinking arm of the galaxy through time. Undoing or one motion through The Milky Way folding its complexity? The dark drawer. It’s over our head But (a small thing) lose your balance, you fall into that dark shirt never pulled off your head. ...

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