Serene as unread words | calm and | composed | passive | having taken their place | in a different order | A world beyond | glances | The days settle like falling snow, like birds on the remote lakes of the north | fold their wings and | prepare for the night || They are | beyond us | We pass them | all the time, but our eyes | don’t see them || How did they slip away from us? | and why | do we not | miss them?

In a room | closed books wait | to open their forests of black type and to | show us what they are || In the silence and the darkness | of the crush of pages | I | kneel and breathe quietly | and the trees | grow greater around me

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from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

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