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Confess                 unfailingly you sing
for the secrets in me                 baritone Wanderers Nachtlied.
You calm the waters and still the wind.

Lightning strikes                 for the moon, the stars branch out
the Unknowable                 higher still is the mother
Rhea is the thunderbolt.

The tympanon sounds                 the heart doesn’t know it will stop beating.
We don’t have conversations                 we have put the fear of god into you
terrible, ugly dreams                 we sell them to each other for cheap.

Take the bus to Union sometime in the spring                 any old day
any old time, I wait                 missed each other the last three years,
kept our coins from Charon and from Morpheus our dreams.

Hidden from all things                 the rocks and the sea
even Tiresias cannot prophesize our words.                 The oculus
shines like an heirloom                 the living and the dead.

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