A matter of clearing, a single sound
A vast journey in space, a wedding.

Its sound journeys to my eager ears
A locus in a space graph of listening.

A soundless night makes it possible.
Geographer’s poem is very journey,

A moving away of a chunk of space
Or invisible space vastly stretching.

The wedding is space of drumbeat,
A clearing in jungle night’s silence

The humans make wedding sounds.
The sleeping dogs make no clearing

And no patrolmen stick tap  night.
Our space enters here,in  window.

Curtains are mute spectator to wind
As trees carry space back and forth.

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