Wednesday, May 14, 2008

if you can turn toward the light on the water
and see a new dimension open,
with me in its torched slit,
waving with a book,
turn away.

if you can see me as one in a series of paperdolls
linked at the arms, don't move with your lens
until the bend sees through your unbending,
don't move such instruments as you have
past the rippling frozen at edges of court.

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