a common sense of the good
a good sense of the common
but when I walk by their houses
scattered among hills or jammed
tight as slaves together in a ship
I see all that’s forgotten
a sense of the hidden world
behind the obvious subject matter
an adamant refusal to see the body
as a product of moral pain
though we have all been left alive
for now as in some fairy story
closing our eyes to cross the bridge of death
and hurrying back by morning
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