sometimes I feel
everything has been said already
the whole territory of our ignorance and doubts
duly charted
ok - perhaps not in so many words
but nevertheless contained
present
waiting to be resaid
then all at once
it is morning
the ashtrays have been emptied and washed
the window is wide open
and the Rose
leaning against the morning light
is longing to be named anew
Archibald Michiels
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