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At any moment, that heron might
slowly unfold its miracle
of flight, and stir the hypnotic tide
of quiet surrounding us
“Do you want to know what war is about?”
Jake asked the talkative one.
“Don’t say it, Jake,” I said.
This is New York, drinking coffee in plain
blue paper cups at dawn. In every tongue,
the dream begins with showing up.
The first time I noticed my hands
trembling, I was still a young man,
just returned from a war…
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