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It is not clear

whether we are rushing toward

or waiting for some bright

beginning, but everything

in us bends to it

with an ache deep as pleasure

but dark.

Whenever I break something

say bread or a bone or the bark

from split fir

I think about this

this day when all

things are made new, rejoined,


and the end bends clear around

to the beginning and


is as it is


Mark Buchanan

Nov. 2, 2007

#clear #poem

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