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9-16-63
The Rose
The fearful beauty of a rose
Invades the crumbling range of summer.
In terrible perfection, silently
Indicts all compromise around.

In delicate accord the lupine
Lives in tangled debt with grass.
And grasses, up and down with wind,
Lift small centuries of shade.

In starred fires the lilies rise,
And shards of grasses everywhere
Catch and spend abundant light
To etch and split their stones.

The rose full now in fearful calm
Is equinox and center
Defining everything around it
Defining every death and error.

[[strikethrough]] The rose with neither point nor sign
Makes barriers fall and days sing out
The green is skyward [[/strikethrough]]