informant38
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...But of these sophisms and elenchs of merchandise I skill not...
Milton, Areopagitica

Except he had found the
standing sea-rock that even this last
Temptation breaks on; quieter than death but lovelier; peace
that quiets the desire even of praising it.

Jeffers, Meditation On Saviors


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1.4.02

so the sky can find us
money scams and emails and porn come-ons
internet quizzes stacking up like geese on a pond
in Minnesota
cold compared to here
but warm compared to then
last winter
next spring
the days and nights become one thing in memory
a long trail of steps taken
and paths not

you there
me here
or vice versa
no difference from any other time
all the difference in the world
I hear you sometimes at night
in an odd moment now and then
your voice so unlike your face
or vice versa

I went to the palmist and she said
I should take better care of my hands
the gypsy in the storefront in Boston in 1968
screamed in anger when I wouldn't go in
to hear my fortune
afraid I guess some instinct pulling and
pushing
I was like a cork in that same pond
left over from some kid's fishing attempt
splashing a little while his dad drinks cheap beer
the radio from the open door of the truck
those sandwiches she makes and sends you off in the clear dawn
reeds dry brown at the edge of the water no swans
no perfect thick bridge of ancient Japanese rightness
mostly the sky and the way up high clouds
warmer than it was for sure
I made it home from Boston
with a spotlight drilled into my back
the sound of the helicopter blades coming back down through the decades
coming down into the moment
faceless cops spilling out ready and alert
dobermans trembling
because they're good boys good boys
and they don't know any better
don't have to
don't need to

what difference does it make how anyone is? or how
they say they are?
what difference is any of it?
the task we found before us as the sleep was washed away
the warm washcloth in her hand
love and duty
love and freedom
a simple thing just walk behind
get in the truck
fall in and out of sleep to the news and jingles
love and the sound of the bacon in the pan
love so all around it goes unnoticed
though we know things we can't say
and later will remember that knowing
way out at the edge of the day
like the woods on the far shore
distant
but just as present just as real
as the stars behind the blue
heaven above

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