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Suppose the sun were an eye
(God's right eye
or the eye of a tiger doesn't matter)
and it continued to riddle us with light,
residing in our mind
exactly as it is, a plasma of gas
(not to be confused with an indefinite
article of faith), until our doors
which conformed in time to the relentless light, slammed
and we find ourselves behind rods (virtual bars)--
the very shape of light
among the bamboo's slanting stripes:

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