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From Monhegan sketchbk
'64

The Rocks

By middle of the summer
The [[strikethrough]] summer [[/strikethrough]] landscape [[strikethrough]] had arranged itself: [[/strikethrough]] [[strikethrough]] was a spread of wedds[[/strikethrough]][[strikethrough]]weeds[[/strikethrough]]
One one side the blue sky,
The cliffs, the ocean, and the flow
Of [[strikethrough]] air [[/strikethrough]] cold and the incidence of birds.
On [[strikethrough]] all [[/strikethrough]] the other -- [[strikethrough]] questions [[/strikethrough]]
[[strikethrough]] and unfilled days, [[/strikethrough]] [[strikethrough]] The decision that weeds [[/strikethrough]]
[[strikethrough]] The tentative plans that helped were not weeds[[/strikethrough]]
[[strikethrough]] To bridge the woods [[/strikethrough]]
The pressed wildflower awaiting identity.
And the rocks, [[strikethrough]] still without meaning [[/strikethrough]]
Large, and everywhere, inhabiting
The paths and the slopes and the edges,
Swarming into the sea.

And drowning at high tide, 
Drowned and always there,
Saying nothing at all.
[[strikethrough]] To anyone who was aware of them [[/strikethrough]]
Weeds [[strikethrough]] thrust poked[[/strikethrough]] shook [[strikethrough]]ridged[[/strikethrough]] green pods [[strikethrough]] into [[/strikethrough]] at the sky.
The birds faltered in a lath of [[strikethrough]]gr[[/strikethrough]] weather
It was such [[strikethrough]] an incidence of birds [[/strikethrough]] a flow of air

Transcription Notes:
The crossed-out word "summer" was rewritten as "landscape"