It's all unfamiliar to me,
This white light filling the suburbs
Of a middle-continent town.
How many passwords have I lost,
How many former phone numbers,
How many names and addresses?
It's not that, not that exactly.
It's not just that I've forgotten
The tchotchkes of my existence.
Even when I know what I see,
The seeing and knowing feel strange,
And being aware feels absurd.
At best an epic catalogue
Of lyrical quotidian
Moments could only make a sieve
From cross hatching words and phrases
Through which the strangeness pours like broth
From unreconstructed stone soup:
More clouds now than moments ago--
Sarah meditates on the lawn--
The sounds of cars fill nearby streets--
The day's half gone--we have to go--
A campus clock tower chimes and gongs
A hollowed hour it can't complete--
However attention tightens--
However wisdom enlightens--
Gaps in shadows slightly widen.
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