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Slant

Written by: Stephen Dunn | Biography
 Yesterday, for a long while,
the early morning sunlight
in the trees was sufficient,
replaced by a hello
from a long-limbed woman
pedaling her bike,
whereupon the wind came up,
dispersing the mosquitoes.
Blessings, all.
I'd come so far, it seemed, happily looking for so little.
But then I saw a cow in a room looking at the painting of a cow in a field -- all of which was a painting itself -- and I felt I'd been invited into the actual, someplace between the real and the real.
The trees, now, are trees I'm seeing myself seeing.
I'll always deny that I kissed her.
I was just whispering into her mouth.



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