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The Impossible Machine
There have been instances, a poem
in an abstract vein, against advice
There have been instances
from time to time
which give me assurance
of things to come
that do not deny me rope
that do not speak contrasting names
that do not break
the road before my feet
that do not twist
my frets beyond tolerance


These moments, are they life?
May I call them mine?
Words exchanged between
lovers happened-upon;


A sky honeyed with water;
the music in a concert hall
silent for not being immanent;
silent not for footsteps
not for being close enough
to speak with;

These moments, maybe
young men treasure them


Yet to age only by forgetting Tantalis
Or shedding hours remembering
how they begin?
Can I say that silence is always tragedy
or that fine weather must be checked
by fear?
Or a circuit of the city
brings nothing near?


I am resolving to speak of these things
things too quiet and too resonant
For having not breathed them
I have not breathed closer to them.
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by Eucaleh Terrapin