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Blank Slate Man
A room's whites cry loud
Still sound fills it with endless echo
No thought, no audible breath, no
Perspective
This view too is
Outside perceivable depth
Only a snowy canvas
Full of emptiness to reveal
The plan
Grab a roller
Pour the can, and
Paint myself eggshell
Now I am the blank slate
Man
Copyright ©
B. Andrew Kelly
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