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Philip Levine - In A Vacant House

2014-11-07 16 Dailymotion

Someone was calling someone; <br />now they've stopped. Beyond the glass <br />the rose vines quiver as in <br />a light wind, but there is none: <br />I hear nothing. The moments pass, <br />or seem to pass, and the sun, <br />risen above the old birch, <br />steadies for the downward arch. <br /> <br />It is noon. Privacy is <br />one thing, but to be alone, <br />to speak and not to be heard, <br />to speak again the same word <br />or another until one <br />can no longer distinguish <br />the presence of silence or <br />what the silence is there for... <br /> <br />No one can begin anew <br />naming by turn beast, fowl, <br />and bush with the exact word. <br />Beyond the fence the sparse wood Yields; <br />light enters; nighthawk, owl, <br />and weasel have fled. To know <br />the complete absence of fear, <br />not to fear what is not there <br /> <br />becomes the end, the last brute <br />quiver of instinct. One moves, <br />or tries to move, among facts, <br />naming one's self and one's acts <br />as if they were real. Dead leaves <br />cling to the branch, and the root <br />grips to endure, but no cry <br />questions the illusion of sky.<br /><br />Philip Levine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-a-vacant-house/

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