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From Monhegan Sketchbook '64

The Rocks 

By the middle of summer
The summer had arranged itself:
On one side of the blue sky,
The cliffs, and ocean, and the flow
Of air and the incidence of birds.
On the other [[strikethrough]] questions days [[/strikethrough]] 
And unfilled days,
The tentative plans that helped 
To bridge the weeds,
The pressed wildflower awaiting identity
And the rocks, still without a meaning,
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,
[[strikethrough]] Saying nothing at all
To anyone who was aware of them, [[/strikethrough]]
Commas and [[strikethrough]] question in [[/strikethrough]] rings moving seas
[[strikethrough]] An appearance of bleached algae [[/strikethrough]]
Rumors of the red tide
The yearly everlasting that turned brown before September