Before I opened you, Jiménez,
it never occurred to me that day and night
would continue to circle each other in the ring of death,
...
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This is where language will stop, the horse we have ridden all our lives rearing up at the edge of a dizzying cliff. where language stops. a fine poem. tony
he word that was in the beginning and the word that was made flesh— those and all the other words will cease. a very good poem. tony
Your place in the top 500 is well deserved, sir. Thank you for sharin. Peace
Glad he's getting serious, finally. Who's Jimenez? Some Spanish poet known only to Collins?
to look more closely here at these small leaves, these sentinel thorns, whose employment it is to guard the rose.. philosophical thoughts on the first night. tony