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Every Day the World Gets Larger

May 4, 2012

Every day I make new edges: Don’t go
near the cow’s pen, I tell him. Don’t go
where I can’t see you playing. Don’t go

in the woods, where monsters breed. Don’t go
up to see all below, where all can see
you (with, perhaps, some monstrous passion
for such as you). Don’t give your kisses lightly.

Don’t go far. If I could wish it real, you
would be like me now, picking clams, netting
fish, milking good Solitude in her pen.
No need for the markets to make my pies.
Ignorant of camels, casinos, it’s
true, and of dry lands some call heaven. But
happy.

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