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White-Binder Poems
By David Eide
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Poetry or prose; the novel or the poem
Back and forth like an idiot who read too many
professors when young. It is the world inside,
cut away from the world and allowed to stand
on its own feet.
Enactments that trouble us three years after they occur.
If, after twenty or fifty wonderful poems, prose emerges,
a story, fine, follow the trail that rises to the sun.
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