I hide behind the simple things so you'll find me;
if you don't find me, you'll find the things,
you'll touch what my hand has touched,
our hand prints will merge.
The August moon glitters in the kitchen
like a tin-plated pot (it gets that way because of what I am saying to you),
It lights up the empty house and the houses kneeling silence -
always the silence remains kneeling.
Every word is a doorway
to a meeting, one often cancelled,
And that's when a word is true: when it insists on the meeting
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