Put out the bunting, but today we’ve reached our 100th meditation poem and here it is, hurrah:
Meditation 100
Somewhere between
curse and response
the pale houses
elongate
like palms or gardens
beside a cool river,
aloes, cedars, rain.
They are not destroyed
by wishing it
and the bright star
is rising still.
At work, I tried to make sense of changes to some
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