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THE GROUND

This strange thing
that people do that isn't
singing, yet
sustains (sometimes)
interesting
(inter est - inter
esse
) words
complements perhaps
this strange way
of isolating
words by weight
that isn't
poetry (poetry that
sings) but both
perhaps - machinal
noise and words
falling like snow - could be called
decomposition, preparing,
we might hope, the ground
for something still
unimaginable.

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