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Poem By Charles Simic

March 17, 2013 — 0

 

The Cold

As if in a presence of an intelligence Concentrating. I thought myself Scrutinized and measured closely By the sky and the earth, And then algebraized and entered In a notebook page blank and white, Except for the faint blue lines Which might have been bars, For I kept walking and walking, And it got darker and then there was A flicker of a light or two Far above and beyond my big cage. - Charles Simic From Weather Forecast for Utopia and Vicinity: Poems, 1967-1982 (Station Hill Press, 1983)

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