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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