Implications arrive in unfamiliar places: Invading the finespun unbelievable Down of your arm, Moving over to accommodate a few trees (Though each one is And is dying to tell An irrelevant version of the river), Converting them to a noisy green, A zephyr is not unlikely. Sweet dreams Like sailing into wind No longer seemed equivocal, And leverage is a property We aspire to deserve. If we opened our eyes That would make two of us, and yet, Not so -- Inside the knife's edge, the cut Occupies itself In study of the obscure. The truth considers turning back. I forget who you are, Since I love you. But when you say, @3It's the wind explains the weathervane@1, I think I see what you mean. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org |