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Something the tenses reveal as they return to themselves a hole to be filled with perfect thoughts a rent in the fabric where repression rests a patch over the place where the rent appears not a hole but a wedge of which I can only say that once I loved the light on the hillside across the lake & once I heard the cars going by on the Panhandle & once I listened to her step on the stair & once I lunched in my chair, alone, while the fan droned on.

Lewis Warsh is the author of several books of poems, including Dreaming as One, Blue Heaven, and Information from the Surface of Venus, as well as two novels, Agnes and Sally and A Free Man. He is the publisher of United Artists Books and editor of The World (the literary magazine of The Poetry Project).
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Author:Warsh, Lewis
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Sep 1, 1993
Words:144
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