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Il Pleut


And the ghosts of Galileo
and Apollinaire

are meeting in a room
reserved for those

in mourning for
acts of insight

that link
perception

to understanding.
They inhale clouds

that promise a more
thorough oblivion

than mere death.
There's a knock at the

horizon. Someone
has come to join them.

She is clothed in
white and,

like them, is
invisible to them.

She speaks slant
lines only the birds hear.

                                                   to Ron Padgett


Ann Lauterbach

Under the Sign
Penguin Books


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