All of the clams were controlled by the rhythm
Of the sea. And all of the seas Were rolled about by the moon. Of these we’re all facsimiles. Imagine a raft of seals that is kind And a cove in Greenland streaming light, And all of nature is stuffed into Your veins, and everything is right, And even the suavity of your spine Is attuned to a book whose mint taste Glistens on your tongue. It is A scarlet sash around your waist, It is a turban. It is a ship That sails along a forest shore, A mountain that rises above all hills, And a fortress of the emperor.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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October 2019
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