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Oh trespass sweetly earned, give me my sin again...

18 November
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  • essequamvideri@livejournal.com
You willsomeday
try to prove me wrong
(I am the wings when you me fly)
to replace me with some mode
you made
and think is right:

I am the way by
which you prove me
the reason
you reason against me:

I change shape,
turn easily into the shapes you make
and even you
in moving
I leave, betray:

what has not yet been imagined has been
imagined by me
whom you honor, reach for--
change unending though
slowed into nearly limited modes:

question me and I
will give you an answer

narrow and definite
as the question
that devours you (the exact

is a conquest of time that time vanquishes)
or vague as wonder
by which I elude you:

-- A.R. Ammons, selection from "What This Mode of Motion Said"