Early before dawn we write with tears in  eyes
Swelling with a red pride of sleep from dreams
As if we write in our water from another water.
We take a glass of water to fill our gaping holes.
And drop some water in  eyes for tears to swell.

Why I write, writes the author, of not knowing.
Not knowing what lay there in the folds of flesh.
It is  there,this and so much else,like the stars
In a moonlit night, their outlines visible as wind,
Like the pale moon in a sunlit early morning sky.

The eyes write on  paper brought up electrically.
Their words flow like ant flows connecting  space
Filling  crevices with homes, with tiny presences
Building bridges on our tiny cross-country streams .
Write to make the world a bloody consistent whole.

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