down again in dark earth,
sun is coming to its most congenial slant

close, on my knees, I smell home
and revel in its scent, its birth

hands in loam I rake to smooth it well
saying, yes—

no one is saying that I can’t,
nothing’s hinting I’m alone

my doppelganger’s also in this space—
chaos works upon that fool
to render him inept at being true,
and blind to things he can’t replace

soil is slipping through my hands
light rain is falling on my back
the sun is shooting through a nimbus hole
light is slow in seeping through that crack

by Jim Culleny


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