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The memory comes of a time
(howling wind
sandy spittle
wan moon, cold)
when I walked the beach alone

Plovers drank rain
collected in horse-hoof prints
the west stretched out beyond,
ever stretched and stretched
and stretched

But as a greedy dog
snarls a greedy bone
I'd will to forget the tombs I dwelt in,
what it was that brought me
to that barren not-a-home

Let me confess these fantasies of loneliness
I want to see you now as I did then