My poems are this gap between my feet
My poems are the space between my arm and my side
My poems are a big space in a wheat belt, amber fields, blue sky
My poems are the gap between me and San Francisco
My poems are outer space, immense and dark and quiet
My poems are the gap between present and future, called knowing
My poems are prescient when it comes to themselves
My poems stay unwritten for years then they spring up like grass
My poems make perfect sense to one another
My poems are spaces between urges
and all is mystery
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