WEBVTT

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From a book called Hard Freight.

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A little six-line poem
called Chinoiserie.

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Why not?

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The mouths of the
ginger bloom slide

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open, the willows drag their
knuckles across the earth;

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Each year has its fields
that no one tends.

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Our days, unlike the long gasps
of the wind, stay half in love

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with the rushes, and half
with the water reeds.

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Outside the body, all
things are encumbrances.

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