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for the ghost in the Logos
where is the first wood
cut in the ageless scroll
unrolling from so wide open
a vanishing point (whose
etching is it) in its worlding we
call it time because the word is
not possibly world enough to
begin by describing the beginning
(whose ink-stained hand
is it) this spirit all around us
released by sound we
call time only an unfurling
end nowhere in sight
as in the beginning it was