When you vanish up the staircase
Of the octaves
I know there is a window
Opening into
A garden
Where the tern, restless
On a plum branch
Prepares to migrate
Down the blue curve
Of that vein
Deep in your neck.
Photo: Alfonso Almendros
(post via Paris Review)
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there is something about photographs like this (meaning no disrespect to the photograph in grouping it with others) ... it is as though hands come out from the photograph and hold me and tell me to pay closer attention.
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erin