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A record overheard


Merely heard at heart, in seasonal bliss
the view from the tower has become history.
The cart before the horse, some say, and
out of the confessional booth all talk sounds lurid.
But since that symbol
there have been any number of tomes read
by eyes meeting, by meeting in corridors,
on rooftops, with purpose.
Enter the blackbird. Enter great gems
revealed when rough stone is broken. The need
for a chisel can be consuming
when marble resembles a cut of beef despite
chicken and egg jokes. My refusal sits in a bin.
The brown paper wrapped around bay leaves
takes on their dust, the dust being part and parcel of giving.
Sometimes the very moment is made by luck,
or at least notices its own fortune
in time for the telling. He that causeth rugged landscape
must alternate with time then caution future longings
against architecture and tapestry.
What these try to do with vision
has to do with sense, reconquest and congregate
sounding off. All the library had to do
was withstand flooding
and even this was too much. A center for street life
came from popularity and climate control,
not unlike some mountain stronghold
preparing for siege with every available body.
But what is regained will then be changed
by the act of its acquisition, whosoever may coincide.