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In the alien redwoods...CLIII

In the alien redwoods,
in her skimpy flight:angels try to out-race the moods
deadly! of human Sight
till, in a blink,
all eyes they espy asleep
& hand in hand link
beyond (all measure of) human grip 60
^{60} At this point in its composition I knew this poem needed something else. But then I was struck by the realization that this additional something was already implicit within the reaction to the poem in the reading of it: The poem is completed by the reader...@
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