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 . . A poem a day
                                    18 August 1999


ravens over the narrow streets
turning together without a sound
glide unhurried circles above the town
like faces at the edge of dreams who fade
in and out of substance
as though the eye unburdened of our woes
could throw the gathered light back out to turn the dark
as we who throw our weightless energetic part in sleep
through plaster dust and cedar shingles
into the starry night
although bright ribbons tie us back
to all our separate houses set in rows
all night the air is full of us
a flock of silent lights set free
to float there bright as visions above the walls
until the day’s intentions
send us tumbling into strife
and drag us blind around our dusty circles
caught in the traces of runaway teams
we wave our mangled wings to the unseen crowd
(morning after morning letting go the dream
turns loose the nightmare)
in sleep unmasked completely
above the rude transgressions of our days
we circle never tangling in contention
in concert - almost like the ravens
who do this wide awake to no applause

- Robert Erman

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