- 1
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Tonight the river marched up out of its banks and went wandering afar,
full bodied smell and the throat of frogs;damply stepping all the
things its other fogs had never known,freeways
and the strange nearly chrysanthemums of street lamps.
old mist of whispers sipping at the air. - 2
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Death
is so much closer at night.companion for the awake and traveling eyes of the alone.
a chill seems to bring the air to that larger damp darkness
a dampness brings the chill to the nose… - 3
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I touch myself in my various bodiesto ferret the fear wherever it hides, ashiver.
i feel the falling in shoulders and knees i grip my asking with a twiceness.
this i dofor my blindness is darkness,and the night is but the night.
my mistake.
even the fog shall become clear as glass when the sun comes - 4
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Tonight the river finds its bed is concrete,and its breath of birds more feeble.
O, but the time-brothered patience of things…
As I passa white flicker under bridges,as i think this,
as you read this,
the river runs gentle hands over its hard grey jacket
and murmurs it
to sand