Hello. Itís me again. Pick up if youíre there...

Okay, well, here goes: I just wanted you to look out your
window so you could see that the moon has become full,
like an atom in the hands of a sexy, young scientist.

I wanted you to see how completely the moon and night
have raced themselves, both coming in first, colleagues
admired and fructified, while I came in a last second, and
slipped, evaporating, beneath an aggregate pine, the pins
of its leaves glotted by arrivals of flame.

See how the moonís rounded itself, finished, and how Iíve
let fall my complete shadow, meaner than any strangerís
wounds, oh Samaritan, who has no clothes for bandages or
money for wine?

And now my children walk over me as if I were only a
name and not an absence of light in which they might think.
And that leaves the moon, framer of ducks and barns, to
migrate inside the racial memory of a lark.

( 3 Messages Left On My Answering Machine By Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel The Night The Berlin Wall Fell Regarding The Moon Becoming Full )
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