

No blind spots in the leopard’s eyes Can only help to jeopardize The lives of lambs, the shepherd cries An afterlife for a silverfish Eternal dust less ticklish Than the clean room, a houseguest’s wish He lies on his side, is he trying to hide? In fact it’s the earth, which he’s known since birth Face worker, a serpentine miner A roof falls, an underliner Of leaf structure, the egg timer

December 12th, 2005 I found Thomas Tallis in the dried winter grass today, a 40-voice motet devoid of chlorophyll, building a glass cathedral of its own. I have never put my hope in any other but in you, O God of Israel, who can show both anger and graciousness, and who absolves all the sins of suffering man. Lord God, Creator of Heaven and Earth, be mindful of our lowliness.
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