The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
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Tuesday 10 July 2012
Look over the edge where the ocean churns
then over again, where the cold earth burns,
but wherever you look, and whatever runs there
good and evil are shaped like a hare,
configured for you at the time of your birth
and always abroad and at work on the earth.
And all that is there, that is left of the world,
all that a man can expect of the world:
all that the world has failed to forgive,
every promise it's made, every prayer we've prayed,
all art, all music, all poetry lives
in the breath and warmth and flight of the hare.