WEBVTT

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A poem called "Reunion."

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Already, one day has detached
itself from all the rest

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up ahead.

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It has my photograph
in its soft pocket.

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It wants to carry my breath into
the past in its bag of wind.

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I write poems to untie myself,
to do penance and disappear

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through the upper right-hand
corner of things, to say grace.

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