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The first sentence (of my poem) must be "I left it."


What is the second sentence

The form of the wave/weave comes to me in pictures

of stars swarming to be good

in their cage.

Man on métro speaks to himself

and so he can say anything he wants.

I wish I were him

always so constricted

by you, all you, the stars.

This page is not woven yet

but any wave of light is already woven

so as I tell you the past of the glassy future

I find I need a plot to show us truth,

the graph's coordinates quotidian life and

my life forgotten from sleep or

the unconscious which must rise up

wounded from the escape, dripping blood.

from Change the Forms in Dreams

Alice Notley

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