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Retreat
I have abandoned the revelatory
Left the dated volumes and cluttered furnishings
Putting things in a cardboard box
the blue silk scarf of a vanquished lover
the green wine bottles throttled with candle wicks
I move into the sun room where warm winter light
through the window’s prism
explains there is feeling without reason
there are visions left in the senses
the only reality ever discovered
poem
by
George Murdock
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