A calm impossible arrangement becomes a quiet pressure that alters the speaker's habits of attention.
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Something has been placed in the calm. It does not ask to be understood. I pass it each morning, carrying my reasons like bread. By evening, one reason is missing. The calm has teeth. I sleep more carefully.
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A field refuses the observer's demand for a clean explanation, leaving attention to do its own work.
An explanation fails at the edge of an experience, leaving the speaker with a more honest and less complete language.
A surreal & fantastical poem about figure, object, light, where attention changes the scale of the ordinary.
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