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I Walk from Steeple to Steeple
Regan Good
You diagram promises by your advancements
but leave bad things behind -- germy wing.
(World like a large drum beaten by soft things.)
toiled in wrong ways, it was the wrong difficulty
I sought.
Stunning the newborn things, all
these babies baking in their brains or playing
The steeples were needle-like in their insistence
that the answer was always up, yet, with gusto
one walks the paved streets under the boiling sun --
(We live in the world with the bird and the whale.)
I watched the movement of the birds exact diligence
of no consequence but description,
things flying liquid and high.
their stained skin hidden from the whorl in my eye.
(Sun gavels the clouds; rain pounds the underdrum.)
over the Willsong, one whistles loudly on the bluestone,
especially through long rains, though most hotly in the sun.
One wears it as a crown -- the sun and its wreathing song.
(We are as in a big drum, cold, pale spring, the increments11 of an underwing.)
Above, birds flying in circles and common-seeming serpentines12.
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