An unfinished centre becomes a place of ongoing attention rather than a defect needing closure.
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The centre is unfinished. Good. A finished centre would leave no room for the hand, the doubt, the day. I stand around its edges, not asking to be let in. The unfinished keeps opening.
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A nature & reflection poem about planet, ear, word, where attention changes the scale of the ordinary.
Scale becomes an unstable instrument as the speaker tries to judge a thing that will not stay still.
A nature & reflection poem about scale, tremor, material, where attention changes the scale of the ordinary.
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