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To the Woman Who Put Her Fingers in Her Ears at the Michael Snow Concert at Museum London on November 8, 2007 at London, Ontario, Canada.

 How can you dare to put your fingers there? How can you not want
to hear this?
 This is the north face of Everest: the windswept storm of a November
Newfoundland gale Then, remarkably--
a <begin strike through>Silence silent at not being<end strike
through>
        silent heart in a In a broken Peking opera--in 1904 All
sumptuous gold As a clatter of ashes on the sun
& then, at long last as snow, falling in a flat field at night under
a moon
        swimming in a sea of stars
                                     (& before everything
                                     the piano,
                                     gilded
                                     and silent
                                     sat under the white
                                     spotlight, its black and white
                                     keys like words
                                     waiting
                                     to be written
                                     in the air)
But you chose not to hear: that or the last note a long sustained tremor
of sound that could have possibly and forever finally changed the way
you would be able to receive enlightenment from the miraculous
automations of the universe 
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Author:Walde, Christine
Publication:Antigonish Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Jun 22, 2009
Words:190
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