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Ken Norris

Probably it settles here
and looks like this.

Probably you’ve glimpsed
your last landscape.

For years everything was in motion
and your heart was a dart
moving through space.

Now your identity
is probably fixed, you’ll be
this face that’s slowly aging.

As the sun goes up and down
and the moon interprets
its changing phases as news.

The mornings begin
to look like one another.
Life is small things,
as it’s been for a while
for almost everyone else.

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