• Five-Vowel Poetics

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    a poem about to be written,
    An old idea in truth, already rotten
    Even as you pick it flowerlike and wordless,
    Universe-bound, the universe of our oneness,
    Or playful separateness, once and future work

    Of pure dream yet identical memory, but
    Above all, as poem proceeds to be, nth guess
    Emptiness and yet music, the music of what
    Inaudible to the ear one can’t hear, much less
    Unhear. Perhaps it is only us, in the dark.

    RUIZ AQUINO

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