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The Language
August 2, 2008
The language is an
acquaintance with whom I have
found an uneasy love.
If I could take syllables as men,
I would know them far and close at once,
fall for them and mistrust them.
The language is structured as
a world I would paint if
I knew nothing before,
pure and difficult,
made for poetry,
harsh flowing and peony shaped.
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