78.
Never kill a silent stranger they told me the only one dangerous
some knowledge back of them groundhog on its haunches
at the edge of the field white man with a broken car
learn to read the particular quiet
varmint in its beastworld the imagination speaking in its public street
I ate the book of lamentations and tasted them into the sweet silence I am
Kore freed from korach
the world of representations
lifted by its sweet opposite
the animals my faces
rush forward
and forward only
who is silence
who does one become
wounded thing
of which the sad birds spoke
Anfortas, anyone’s disability,
not what you have but what has you
to love you
for its own salve
heal the morning with your broken song.
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