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The Solicitude of Solitude

if this sun were smoke it would be a shawl
spread between the olive trees, if the trees were gazelles

they’d be perched on graceful legs of frosted dew
but the sun is beaten bronze, the olive leaves are silver chalices

and the sheep baa a prayer
into the unbending earth, the unending air

and now it was then, and then it was now,
in this hammock slung across the sun between the clouds

 

Deià, 2012

 

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