--Adam Clay
Where was it that I found myself face near the sand
looking for a grain of sand
among a million others? And did
I dare to remove a puzzle piece
from the yard so carefully pruned,
the yard that would have seemed
savage a year ago to any passerby but myself?
Bereft of perception, what is the sun?
What is the ideal curtain-call
of diesel fumes and worn-out railroad ties
spoken in the hinge of darkness
outside every door? At what point
do we pause to worship
the ringing phone no one else can hear?
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