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--- M I C H A E L   R O T H E N B E R G

These were about things I knew Specific lover or moment Then I knew less but I didn't care because I still understood the feeling Stepping out of the story through the scenery of trees or clouds streets or houses into a thought twitching occupation like a leaf or stick grazing

And this abstract phenomenon that speaks of experience smells of flesh but is fleshless and transparent hurls in timeless current like a wall against emotion

Button the collar, tuck it in Make a suit of it Bind it to reputation Then the larger abstraction is uprooted by whatever makes life and sends it in the whirl to join the unspeakable constellations, drift of stars in and out of creation as if the name of it becomes it when it only loitered on the corner for a breath

Even disappearing is too known for the unknown The unspeakable Could music or light be more perfect than the word?

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