The Roman road blended stone
And gravel. you meet your soul on the road, And dense fog that wraps around Its feet that might in time corrode. The two call each other, and you create A wobbling figure of words or paint, A nudibranch flicking light, A universe of light and restraint, A valley in Michigan flowing with sun, A songbird whose head has a scarlet crest, The lightning flows and twists into stars, The snail, the sea and the sky are blessed, A sapphire sky blazing above Key West, all there in that whirlwind Of words, all there in that splatch Of paint, the soil, the tamarind.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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October 2019
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