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Always your face like a space (Destination: beautiful) ship Empties its mote of closeup trace Down screens that blink blank blip
Somewhere between countdown And coma time is a line Where waking centuries often Drained against that measure we find
Our blood redshifts (direction: west) Until film can clone one sun With stars both whole and gone
Attending every sequel We pray for an intent equal To our interest
Bill Knott
Read poems about / on: beautiful, sun, time, star
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