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Untitled
I’ve heard
Beauty is simplicity;
The pale tufts of cumulus clouds or
the brilliant red of a robin’s belly
or the gentle grit of sand under skin.
And Beauty is extravagance;
The looming threshold of a cathedral or
the vast palette of a six o clock sunrise
or the warmth of her hand pressed flush into mine
If this is so, I am a pendulum
I am the gray between black and white,
firmly weak, and tightly wound
and sweetly soft, but hard to please
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