This is a quiet utterance
Tracking like a bird flying over the townscape
A house with just the dull hum of television
Rumbling faintly like a call to prayer, or
To riot – but we're lazy, it's hot
Let's just sit in sunlight.

This utterance moves only with great gentleness & love
It climbs slowly up over every obstacle
Like the bright warmth of our sun
Or the cool calm water that rises
Silently, dark, at nighttime.

These utterances are small, unobtrusive & immeasurable
They tell of good
Of long, quiet days growing in sunlight
Domestic dreams within eyelids
Flickering on out into another world
A dimension removed, detached, without passion
Like the visions of the long dead.

The utterance falters, then
Recovers, enlaps, and ripples itself
Toward no limit.



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