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The Shape of Touch

04/23/2020

As I sit, or lie
With implement in hand
Waiting for the settling
To calm the unsettled mind
Random, yes   and not
Folding the images into
Precise corners

Feel my obtuse text as
It permeates the dark water
No anchor to drag
Where the gloam awaits
No glimmer, no sign
For the phantom camera
To focus attention
On original beauty

So we wait and listen
While the pools collect
From drizzle to deluge
And finally form

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