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all It does is rise


It does seem that something

holds up the sun;

some something in requiem

and in renascence and in religion, too,


i think.


It doesn’t seem otherwise;

the suns i’ve seen on this shore,

that moorland, that vespered garden—

that great intrusive star

meant nothing at all itself.


It does seem that some billion years ago

or another arithmetic estimation

It collapsed into being

as immaculate

energy.


It doesn’t seem otherwise

and by all i may observe

It is directionless—

by wavelength, by spectral truth

all It does is rise.


we the people set

and sorrow and slumber.

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