13 Jul
Posted in: Poems
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Things As They Are

intimatePerspective Without Any Point
in Which It Might Vanish
by Jane Hirshfield

It Might Vanish
The way the green or blue or yellow in a painting
is simply green and yellow and blue,
and tree is, boat is, sky is
in them also —

There are worlds
in which nothing is adjective, everything noun.

This among them.

Even today–this falling day–
it might be so.

Footstep, footstep, footstep intimate on it.

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