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Transit Zone by Martin Burke      < back : index : next >   

Y.  R.

When history fails
the myths enter to complete us.
A stairway, an open (or closed) door,
a flower blooming between the rocks
are what we draw our sustenance from
and give out allegiance to-
so answer me this:
when does the image become the icon?
when does the poem become a poem?
where does the original water reside?
where does the wind come from?



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