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Poem ("rural light...")

rural light, the lark ascending

no word as to yes or no from anyone

light catcher fastens onto the morning

transfigures a patch of ground

makes what is seen move from eye to brain to surface

& stay

a shelf of light, a tool of what is to come

some high cloudiness at nine a.m., music for strings,

percussion and celesta, clouds as software

better or not to be impalpable?

a different issue to be recallable

also a different issue to represent

art as perception recorded tells us we have not been alone

in seeing or feeling, birds intone their liquid nonsense

capacity of the single voice to entrance, to capture

forests of crickets, hidden strengths & messages

Tell me why the alignment of clouds means nothing