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Circe 424

Come to this flourishing
Come to this soaring water
till your discontent
is everywhere
no peace amid these jets these
tightly drawn doorways
no calls to prayer in this egregious temple
you are attending time
and time of great water is upon us
we will not prevent a draw of venom
we are coming to famished joy
we are calling to our elder faces
We are singing in our legless voices
we are chanting to some idiotic trinity
we are lost in all this wrinkled bliss.

For Jack Levine 1915-2010