Haven’t been through cataclysm, haven’t lived to see redemption,
Haven’t carved through simple moments to the bottom of their motion.
I don’t know how I’ve gotten through the day-to-day,
Not that this should hint at any courage or ennui.

No leaf bears a script. No earth-turn vibrates song.
No locust shaves a symphony from roadside corn.
Life is all that unifies, cell-in-body pulse.
There's no perfect zero. Should I add a shaky plus?

I ask the stones and pavement, stifling air, electron-work,
Tonguing waves and frozen moon, desert-wet and winter-choke:
I ask for one full full-stop, one moment ringing silence.
They call each to another and their speech is fluent muteness.

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