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Clouds, Metaphysical
William Logan
just a short sail to faith and theology,
divine imprudence, the tides of doubt.
What was our workday, we who abandoned prayer?
The canted port from which the dories set out,
all investments in some Ponzi scheme
of childhood, intimate but not metaphysical.
their shadows ruled off by Dürer, the nervous
hatchmarks of each fold of cloth, flesh,
such as might be remembered in, of, grace.
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