Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Jan Gibson


The season is the heart star.
What escapes now will not be remembered.
What escapes now was once thrown
Off like a shirt or saddle.
Ridden into Bethlehem to be borrowed,
Then given; this is it: the one noise,
A rock, cobalt and a book, a cow-child
Is giving us a gift.
It is the gift of an infant mind

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