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The Desolate Field

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 Vast and grey, the sky
is a simulacrum
to all but him whose days
are vast and grey and—
In the tall, dried grasses
a goat stirs
with nozzle searching the ground.
My head is in the air but who am I .
.
.
? —and my heart stops amazed at the thought of love vast and grey yearning silently over me.

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