Monday, August 13, 2007

Unexpected Poetry

This arrived in my inbox today:

" Blurring the terrain,
The pain of being born into matter. Not daring to oppose
Is the moon to grow Out of the picture of life, as it were, out
And Mère Chose's square of world, even as they Of Boyg of Normandy..."

Can any of you make any sense out of it?

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